Needs of the Empire

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘So, you church or army?’

  ‘Neither.’

  The driver waited for her to continue, and when she didn’t, he cracked the whip and kept his gaze forward.

  Karalyn stirred, picking up the nerves that her mother was feeling.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Daphne whispered. ‘It’s going to be fine.’

  As they drew closer to the centre of the city, Daphne began recognising streets and caverns, and the almost hidden entrances to the network of service tunnels and shafts that she remembered so well from her time in the city. The richer caverns were now unguarded, and folk in brown tunics were moving everywhere, without any of the roadblocks and barriers that had kept them restricted to certain areas under the old regime. Poverty was still endemic, she saw, despite the new freedoms that the lower classes were enjoying. Thin children played in the small squares they passed, running in the dim lamplight, while groups of out-of-work adults gathered at street corners, their faces wan and hungry.

  Signs of the battle for the city appeared: scorched tunnel walls, boarded-up shopfronts, and smashed statues and monuments.

  The cart pulled into the central government cavern. Ahead, the Senate building towered above everything else, as it had for millennia. Battle damage scarred its high walls, and the flag of the empire, showing a golden five-pointed star, flew from the highest turret.

  Next to it, the smaller but still impressive Council Chambers sat, untouched by any stain of war. The driver guided the cart down a narrow street a few blocks from the council, and halted in front of a large stone building, its walls recently painted white.

  ‘Here we are, miss,’ the driver said. ‘The Church Mission.’

  Daphne took a firm hold of Karalyn, and stepped down from the cart. She reached into a purse on her belt and handed the driver some coins.

  ‘There will be more if you wait for me,’ she said. ‘This shouldn’t take too long.’

  ‘Yes, miss,’ he said. ‘Of course.’

  Daphne walked to the gates at the front of the building, carrying Karalyn on her right hip. She reached into her vision, and checked that the protections she had placed were still there. She took a breath, and approached the gates.

  A Holdings guard stepped in front of her.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I’d like to see Father Ghorley.’

  ‘Oh yeah? You got an appointment?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then give me one good reason why I should let you in.’

  ‘My name is Daphne Holdfast,’ she said. ‘Father Ghorley will want to see me.’

  The guard squinted at her, as if he recognised the name but couldn’t place it.

  ‘Holdfast, eh? Wait a minute.’ He turned and gestured to another guard.

  They whispered together, and the younger guard nodded, then sprinted for the mansion. Daphne shifted Karalyn’s weight on her hip, a mask of calm upon her face.

  A few moments later, the younger guard ran back out from the great building, down the wide steps, and towards the gates .

  He nodded. ‘Let her in.’

  The first guard raised an eyebrow. ‘Fair enough.’

  He pulled the bar of the gates clear, and swung them open.

  ‘Thank you,’ Daphne said, entering the courtyard in front of the steps. She gazed around. Groups of black-clad deacons stood by a row of wagons, loading them up with books and supplies. Several of them cast glances across the courtyard at her and Karalyn, but no one spoke.

  Daphne strode towards the steps, mounted them and went through the front doors, guards holding them open.

  She heard a low chuckle, and saw a man waiting for her.

  ‘Well, well. I was about to sack that guard for drunkenness, so sure was I that you’d never walk through those doors again.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Joley,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know that any of the old embassy staff still worked here.’

  ‘I’m the only one,’ he said. ‘Come, Father Ghorley is waiting.’

  He turned and she followed him down a marble-floored corridor.

  ‘After we’d been released from the prison cells where the Rahain had been keeping us,’ Joley said, ‘Ambassador Quentin and the others opted for early retirement, and returned to the Holdings.’

  ‘But you stayed?’

  Joley shrugged. ‘I’ve been here too long. Wouldn’t know what to do with myself back home. Things have changed.’

  ‘This is no longer the embassy, for instance.’

  ‘No,’ Joley said. ‘This is the Church Mission.’ He glanced at her and smirked. ‘They changed the name, gave the place a lick of paint to hide the smoke damage, and fixed the windows. Today we seem to function mainly as a gathering point for missionaries heading out into the wilds of Rahain.’

  ‘I saw a few outside.’

  He paused as they reached a door.

  ‘You’re either brave or stupid for coming here,’ he said. ‘Father Ghorley nearly spat his tea out when he heard you’d arrived. You’re supposed to be on your way to Slateford, or so our intelligence told us. ’

  ‘I’m not a criminal,’ she said. ‘I’m not on the run. Why would I not want to pay my respects to the empire’s representatives in Rahain?’

  Joley smiled.

  He put his hand on the door.

  ‘Good luck in there, Holdfast,’ he said. ‘As I said, things have changed.’

  Joley pushed the door open, and Daphne walked in, Karalyn held close to her.

  ‘Miss Daphne, do come in,’ Ghorley called from across the room. He was sitting behind an enormous desk, where a silver tray with teapot and cups rested amidst a heap of papers. A dozen men and women in black robes were standing by the desk, each displaying a different expression. Some showed curiosity, others alarm and even fear. A few failed to hide their contempt.

  ‘Greetings Father Ghorley,’ Daphne said, striding towards him, her face glowing with confidence, despite the hammering of her heart behind her ribs. ‘I’m newly arrived in the capital, and thought I’d come by for a little chat.’

  ‘Why of course,’ said Ghorley, the grin on his lips not reaching his eyes. ‘Tea?’

  ‘Thank you. And a smoke, if you have one.’

  Ghorley gestured to a black-robed man to his left, who offered Daphne a cigarette. Ghorley then picked up the teapot, and began to pour.

  Daphne put Karalyn down and lit the cigarette. The infant hugged Daphne’s leg, keeping her face buried in her long cloak.

  ‘She’s a little tired,’ Daphne said, the crippled fingers of her left hand stroking Karalyn’s dark hair. ‘She’ll be needing a nap soon, so I won’t stay long. You’ve spoken to the Lord Vicar, I’m sure. You’ll know that he wants me as far away as possible and, well, here I am. He also wants me to not interfere with the work of the church, so let me promise you this – if you stay away from me, I’ll stay away from you. I intend to go to Slateford, and live there, in peace. I have no desire to intervene in the politics of the world, and expect you to respect that. Do we understand each other?’

  ‘Such a pity,’ Ghorley said. ‘When I asked you to rescue her Highness Princess Shellakanawara and then return to Plateau City, I hoped with all my heart that it would lead to your reconciliation with the church. Someone like yourself should be working for us, with us. Ahh, Daphne, the great things we could accomplish together.’ He shook his head.

  ‘Do we have an understanding?’

  ‘Of course, Daphne,’ Ghorley said. ‘The church will do you no harm, as long as you keep to your side of the agreement. You won’t be shocked to learn that I’ve been asked to monitor your whereabouts by the Lord Vicar, and up until this morning I thought I’d been doing a good job. It’s not often I’m surprised, Daphne, but you achieved that today.’

  He raised his teacup in salute, and gazed at Karalyn.

  Daphne felt the priest’s vision flex out like a whip towards her daughter, and she knew then that Ghorley was more powerful than any mage she had yet
encountered. Even so, the webs of protection she had woven about Karalyn were enough to prevent him from entering her mind. Daphne almost grunted with the effort, but kept her composure.

  Ghorley opened his mouth and blinked.

  ‘How?’ he whispered.

  ‘How what?’ Daphne said.

  Ghorley glanced up. ‘What? Oh, I was just… just wondering how you were travelling to Slateford.’

  ‘We have a carriage,’ she smiled, ‘with Holdings horses. Lovely beasts, as long as I don’t get close enough to smell them.’

  Ghorley coughed, and his face calmed.

  ‘When you get to Slateford,’ he said, ‘be sure to ask Chief Killop to overturn his foolish ban on missionaries entering the clan’s estate. No one is forced to join our religion, but surely it’s fair that everyone has the chance to listen to our message?’

  ‘That’s a matter for him,’ she said, ‘and I don’t intend to ruin our first moments together by discussing the church. ’

  ‘So you’ll bring it up after an appropriate interval?’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Rahain is turning,’ Ghorley said. ‘The people here have been blessed by the Creator, and are converting daily in their thousands. The freed slaves in particular have taken to it. The notion of the Creator loving each one of them has sparked a change in their hearts. The masses have given up their wicked ways, and are living pure, devout lives of worship, flocking to serve the Creator and perform the noble work of the church.’

  He gazed into Daphne’s eyes, but she felt no power emerge from him.

  ‘Killop cannot resist this reformation,’ he said. ‘If he tries, it will sweep him away.’

  ‘I doubt the Kellach Brigdomin will be as susceptible to conversion as the Rahain.’

  ‘That may be true,’ he said, ‘but it cannot be right that they are forbidden to even consider it.’

  Daphne said nothing.

  ‘Well,’ Ghorley said, ‘I tried. You said you would think about it, and so I must be satisfied with that.’

  Daphne picked up Karalyn, resting her again on her hip.

  ‘Thank you for the tea.’

  ‘You’re most welcome,’ Ghorley said, sitting up in his seat. ‘One last thing. Be careful on the road. Old Free bandits and criminals lurk in the valleys, and have been known to strike out at innocent travellers.’

  ‘They’re getting this close to the capital?’

  ‘Unfortunately,’ Ghorley said. ‘However, we are recruiting and training a truly mighty army. The rebellion will be smashed, of that there is no doubt.’

  Daphne nodded. ‘Farewell.’

  ‘Farewell, Miss Holdfast.’

  Daphne turned and walked for the door, feeling their eyes boring into her back.

  Bedig took Karalyn from Daphne and placed her into the back of the wagon. Daphne clambered up after them, and slumped down next to her daughter, her hand trembling with exhaustion.

  The Brig man lashed the reins, and the horses moved off down the road in the direction of the setting sun.

  ‘How’d it go?’

  Daphne smiled. ‘Made it back, didn’t we?’

  ‘I was worried they would try something.’

  ‘They were too surprised to know what to do.’

  She sat Karalyn on her knee and gazed back up the road towards the gatehouse of the city as it grew smaller in the distance.

  ‘It worked, I think,’ she said. ‘It showed them I’m not afraid, but it took a lot out of me. Ghorley’s strong.’

  ‘Not as strong as you, though?’

  ‘Not as strong as me.’

  ‘Here,’ he said, passing her a smokestick.

  She lit it and inhaled.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I assume your day went well?’

  ‘Took me a while to find the place,’ he said, ‘but the old woman’s still there, and remembered you from when you used to buy off her. She said she was giving me a good price, but I reckon you were ripped off.’

  He passed her a leather pouch from under the driver’s bench. She opened it, and saw a thick bundle of smokesticks.

  She smiled.

  ‘No, Bedig,’ she said. ‘That’ll do.’

  Chapter 11

  Slow Burn

  B roadwater, Kingdom of Sanang – 20 th Day, First Third Autumn 506

  Agang relaxed and lay back, gazing up at the patches of blue sky visible through the branches of the forest. Nothing reached his ears but the sound of birds in the trees, and the splashing coming from the little river close by.

  ‘Woah, that was a cold swim,’ said Giles, emerging from the water.

  Agang watched the handsome young Holdings man clamber up the bank, his dark skin glistening with droplets. He reached down, picked up a towel and began drying himself, as Agang lit a stick of dreamweed.

  ‘Come and sit here,’ he said, patting the grass next to him. ‘We’ll share this before we return to town.’

  Giles nodded, and walked over. He gathered his clothes and pulled a loose tunic over his shoulders.

  ‘Have you enjoyed this morning?’ Agang asked.

  ‘Yes, your Majesty,’ Giles said, sitting and taking the weedstick from the king. ‘Thanks for inviting me along.’

  ‘I needed a break,’ Agang said. ‘It’s nice to get away from all the stresses of politics, even if it’s only for a few hours.’

  ‘You picked a lovely spot,’ Giles said, gazing around at the forest clearing. The leaves of the seasonal trees were shaded red and orange, interspersed with green spruce needles.

  ‘Sanang is the most beautiful country in the world,’ Agang said, ‘and autumn is its most wonderful season.’

  ‘You’ve yet to see the Holdings, your Majesty.’

  ‘Very true.’

  ‘It’s also beautiful, but it’s a more austere beauty. The endless plains, and the vast open sky, and glorious sunsets that seem to last forever.’

  ‘And warmer too, I believe?’

  ‘Yes,’ Giles said. ‘Much hotter in summer. I’m from the eastern holds, where it hardly ever rains for half the year, and the ground gets dry and dusty. The first autumn showers should be arriving there about now.’

  ‘Do you miss it?’

  Giles nodded. ‘Yes, but I want to be here, your Majesty.’

  ‘Even with all the recent troubles?’ Agang said. ‘Tension in the town is rising. The people are fearful with all the waiting.’

  ‘Commander Mandalecht will send news soon, your Majesty. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘I hope so. It’s been over a third. He should have reached the River Tritos days ago.’

  ‘There are many ways a messenger could have been delayed, your Majesty.’

  ‘Of course. I’m sure you’re right,’ Agang said. ‘I’m probably worrying over nothing.’

  He stubbed out the weedstick and got to his feet. Giles accepted his offered hand and stood, his dark hair dripping.

  Agang clapped, and a dozen soldiers emerged from the surrounding forest.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ their officer bowed.

  ‘We’re ready to return,’ Agang said.

  ‘Very well, your Majesty.’

  The officer raised his hand, and the soldiers formed up into a flanking escort. He pointed forwards, and they moved off, Agang and Giles in their midst.

  ‘Father Pieper is attending court this afternoon,’ Agang said.

  ‘Thanks for the warning, your Majesty,’ Giles said. ‘I’ll stay well clear of him when we get back. He looks at me funny.’

  ‘He can be rather annoying at times,’ Agang said. ‘However, he may have performed the vision he was talking about, to see if he could find the army’s whereabouts. If he was successful, then I want to hear what he has to say.’

  The path followed the bank of the stream for a mile, then turned north, where the first signs of habitation became visible. Fields and orchards ran for acres on the western side of Broadwater, and small farms and dwellings dotted the landscape. O
ats, fruit and corn were the main crops grown next to the town, with cocoa and coffee plantations further along the Twinth. Agang gazed across the bountiful fields. Already the first harvests were beginning, and would intensify over the following days.

  ‘What’s that?’ Giles cried, and a few of the soldiers halted, their mouths opening.

  Agang heard a scream and looked up. A great plume of smoke was rising from the direction of Broadwater, thick and black, carried by a light breeze.

  He nodded to the officer, and they increased their speed.

  Ahead, a new settlement had been built, nestled up against the western wall of the town. The road ran through its centre, ending in a large set of gates leading to the town. A crowd had gathered, looking up at the smoke.

  ‘The firewitch is here!’ someone cried, and the crowd froze for a second, then panicked.

  Groups of peasants began running away from the town amid jostling, curses and shouts of terror. The soldiers bunched around Agang as the mob approached. More people were streaming through the gates ahead, pushing aside any guards who tried to block their way .

  ‘Off the road,’ Agang shouted to his escort, and they piled down the bank to their right and into a ditch as the crowd swept past.

  ‘Keira kill-kill!’ someone screamed.

  Fights broke out on the road, above where Agang crouched, as people shoved and punched each other in their haste to flee. Some fell, their cries cut out as they were trampled.

  Agang got to his feet.

  ‘Come on,’ he yelled to his escort, and began running along the course of the ditch towards the town, his boots sinking into the soft mud. Giles slipped, and Agang pulled him up. Above, the crowds were thinning, and Agang ran up the bank and back onto the road.

  ‘Your Majesty!’ cried his nephew Gadang, who was ahead by the gates, an entire company of soldiers standing in lines behind him.

  Agang’s escort formed up and they dashed into the safety of the ranks.

  ‘Are you all right, your Majesty?’ Gadang said, his eyes darting over the crowds still fleeing the town.

  ‘Yes,’ Agang replied. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘A fire, your Majesty.’

  ‘I know that,’ he shouted. ‘Is the town under attack?’