They donned cloaks and followed him. He led them away from the cluster of huts and to the cliff’s edge.
‘There.’ He pointed out to sea. Two ships were nearing the island, their purple sails swelling.
‘Another attack!’ Kutch exclaimed.
The pirate galleons hoisted black flags and began a tack for a less daunting shore of the island.
Serrah let out a weary breath. ‘Here we go again.’
11
A small battle raged across a myriad droplets of quicksilver.
Each shimmering bead reflected its own fragment of the event. They showed mobs sweeping through ruined streets, throwing stones, fighting, commiting arson. There were hordes of civilians clashing with uniformed, baton-wielding men at barricades. Magical discharges flashed like searing lances, setting people ablaze.
The pewter gobbets coalesced, mingled, became a shiny liquid. Then the fragmentation occurred again, and other, similar events unfolded. Gutted buildings, rampaging crowds, looting, cavalry charges and arrests. Repeatedly the fluid turned through its cycle, flowing, reforming, displaying scenes of civil disorder. Bodies littering city squares, prisoners herded into carts at sword-point, and roadside executions.
The hoary substance through which the drama played out, bubbling and seething, filled the bed of a smooth-walled pit. Two men stood at the polished handrail surrounding this cavity, looking down at the ever-changing vista. They wore fine robes of glamoured fabrics that coursed with colours and subtle patterns.
Both men were old. Cosmeticians and face glamours had alleviated their appearance to some degree, but not convincingly. The smoothness of skin and abundance of hair proved frauds on close inspection.
Elder Felderth Jacinth, the single most feared man in the empire, was marginally the older. But it was a near-run thing as to who was the grimmer.
‘Enough,’ he decided, slicing the air with an easy gesture.
The images in the pit dissolved; the not-quite liquid fell back to churning and grew quieter.
‘Do you still think this unrest is of little account, Rhylan?’ the Elder asked.
His brother seemed less ruffled. ‘Let’s not get this out of proportion; it’s not as bad as the visualisations suggest. The disturbances are restricted to isolated pockets.’
‘But they shouldn’t be happening at all.’
‘Our system’s too well ordered to allow such disobedience to persist for long. Besides…’
‘What?’
‘Besides which the greater part of the masses are bound to be restrained by their devotion to us.’
‘Please, Rhylan, let’s not stretch credulity too far.’
The Elder turned away from the pit and its faintly sulphurous fumes, followed by his brother.
They walked into the main body of an enormous, windowless chamber. It was fashioned from exquisite marble, and a score of pillars rose gracefully to a high, vaulted ceiling. An abundance of glamour orbs bathed the room in a soft glow. In keeping with old ways, the routes of subterranean power channels were marked out with coloured pigments. Red, blue, green, gold, a mesh of lines cut across the chamber’s floor.
Shaped like a shield and large enough to support a chariot and team, a table occupied centre stage. Clusters of the power lines ran to its sturdy legs, infusing the oak with magical essence to invigorate those who deliberated there, and to make vibrant the motif imprinted on the table’s surface. So that the emblem of empire–an eagle in flight against a backdrop of lightning bolts–was imbued with pseudo-life. The eagle soared, working its powerful wings as lightning crackled all around.
Upwards of twenty members of Rintarah’s Central Council were seated at the table. Had an ordinary citizen been admitted, which they never were, they would have noticed that the men and women present bore an obvious familial resemblance. Blood, rather than egalitarianism, had always determined the Council’s composition. An onlooker would also have been struck by the fact that the majority in attendance were very old.
Felderth Jacinth took his place at the head of the table. Rhylan made for the last vacant seat.
‘Some of you, including my brother here, feel that our current public order problems are no more than a passing nuisance,’ the Elder began without preamble. ‘I disagree. What we’re seeing on the streets of Jecellam, and throughout Rintarah, may not be widespread, but it is significant.’
‘More important than the unrest we’ve weathered in the past?’ a sceptical relative asked.
‘Yes, and for two reasons. First, we have something new in the mix: the Diamond Isle. From the moment dissidents from here, and from Gath Tampoor, were allowed to reach it, it kindled hope in the radicals’ breasts. The wretched place is a beacon for every malcontent, troublemaker and revolutionary.’
‘But we’re talking about a relatively tiny number of people,’ Rhylan argued.
‘Which wouldn’t ordinarily concern us too much,’ the Elder agreed. ‘But that brings me to the second factor, and one which I shouldn’t have to spell out. The Qalochian.’
‘Ah yes, a problem that should have been dealt with long ago.’
‘Had we been able to settle our differences about him, it would have. Now we have him entangled with the dissidents, and that’s like throwing oil on smouldering embers.’
‘Aren’t we in danger of exaggerating Caldason’s importance?’ another sceptic wondered.
‘That argument’s devilled us for far too long,’ the Elder replied. ‘If we forget his genesis, and his potential for harm, we do so at our peril.’
‘I agree,’ a female councillor interjected. ‘Caldason and the alienated ones are a volatile mix. There’s no question that action’s overdue.’
‘But we don’t even know if he’s aware of his latent capabilities,’ Rhylan responded, ‘let alone about to exercise them.’
‘There you have it: we don’t know,’ Felderth Jacinth said. ‘Are we prepared to take that risk?’
‘We need no persuading of the man’s latent menace,’ someone else assured him. ‘It’s the methods about to be employed that trouble many of us.’
There were supportive murmurs. Almost half the people at the table nodded agreement.
‘As we’ve permitted this situation to escalate to crisis point,’ the Elder told him, ‘we’re left with little option.’
Rhylan spoke for the doubters. ‘But joining forces with our deadliest rivals? That strikes many of us as an extraordinary state of affairs, brother.’
‘We are not joining forces with them. Achieving a joint goal would be a more accurate description.’
‘Whatever you call it, it’s totally unprecedented.’
‘Desperate times demand desperate measures.’
‘Maybe so. But are you honestly saying that the situation on the Diamond Isle is beyond the capability of Rintarah’s armed forces? Why do we need Gath Tampoor?’
‘We don’t. Militarily, of course we’re perfectly able.’
‘Then why this…alliance?’
‘Gath Tampoor is preparing to act whatever we do, and politically it makes sense for them. They have to demonstrate to their subjects that dissidence won’t be tolerated. If we act differently we leave ourselves open to accusations of weakness, which would only give sustenance to our own rabble-rousers.’
‘The argument does have merit,’ a supporter murmured.
‘I repeat that this is not an alliance,’ the Elder continued. ‘It’s a question of mutual self-interest. Necessity makes for strange bedfellows, and no matter how profound our differences, the only issue of any import is survival.’
That brought down a pall of silence.
The Elder waited a beat, then explained, ‘There need be no concerns that our dealings with Gath Tampoor have in any way compromised us. Such exchanges as have occurred were at the highest level, and our position was made plain. There can be no misapprehension on their part that we’re offering concessions of any kind.’
‘That’s reassuring,�
�� an opponent uttered with less than total conviction. Then he added, ‘What exactly do we know about the security situation in Gath Tampoor’s sphere?’
‘If anything, they’re suffering more than we are. But then they do have some notoriously troublesome colonies, Bhealfa being a good example. Which was Caldason’s birthplace, of course.’
‘Hmmm. And the rebels? Do we know their disposition?’
‘Less clearly than we did. They’ve been decimated and many of the survivors are scattered, which makes intelligence-gathering all the harder. Not that it was ever easy planting spies in their ranks.’
‘Yet we had one informer amongst them with access to their upper echelons.’
‘Yes, and they proved a useful source. But contact was broken just when some very interesting information was starting to come through. We don’t know what happened to that informer. Our suspicion is that they perished at the hands of Gath Tampoor’s security forces during their cull.’
‘Ironic,’ Rhylan observed.
His brother nodded. ‘Indeed.’
‘Of course, the informer might simply have changed allegiance.’
‘What do you mean?’ the Elder asked.
‘It’s a reasonable supposition that Gath Tampoor also had a highly placed source in the so-called Resistance, else they wouldn’t have been able to strike at them so hard. Perhaps it was the same person.’
‘That’s possible. It’s also largely irrelevant now. Our only concern is Rintarah’s internal security, and we know that although crippled, the rebels still pose a threat. Which brings us back to the action I intend taking.’ A clamour broke out. The Elder raised a hand to silence it. ‘For those of you who waiver on this, let me add another factor.’ He turned and pointed to the pit. It was an intentionally dramatic gesture. ‘We all know that strange things have been happening to the energy mesh. My fear is that the disturbances will grow worse unless immediate steps are taken to trace their origin.’
‘You can’t be suggesting a connection, surely?’ Rhylan exclaimed. ‘What possible relation can there be between the rebels and the matrix?’
‘I don’t know. But it takes little effort to imagine a potential link between it and Caldason. Nor should we overlook Zerreiss.’
‘The warlord? Being cautious is a commendable trait, brother, but don’t you think you’re going a bit far? What does he have to do with the picture you’re painting for us?’
‘Perhaps nothing at all. Or he could be the lynchpin in this affair.’
‘Oh, come on, Felderth–’
‘Hear me out. We know he’s carving a domain for himself in the northern wastelands, and that alone makes him a threat. Then there’s the question of the mission we sent to investigate his activities, and the one Gath Tampoor dispatched. There seems little doubt both have been lost, and the chances are it was Zerreiss’s doing. If Caldason, the rebels and Zerreiss united we could be facing a much more formidable menace than a mere handful of traitors.’
‘If. It’s not our way to talk ourselves into a panic over hypothetical possibilities. What would they have in common?’
‘A hatred of the empires seems a good enough impetus to me. Zerreiss certainly has no respect for us or Gath Tampoor; he’s attacked both our colonies with equal zeal. He might see a benefit in joining with our enemies. And I suspect that’s how Gath Tampoor sees it, too.’
‘This is all supposition. Where’s the proof?’
‘I’ve no hard evidence. But I do have something I think is heavily circumstantial.’ He took a parchment scroll from his robe and placed it on the table. ‘Recently, I noticed an anomaly. The last three or four occasions when the matrix became agitated occurred on what seemed to be significant dates. When I checked I discovered the upheavals coincided with Zerreiss’s conquests. I set our officials to compiling a list of his victories and major battles, and when they took place. Every one of them tallied with a disturbance in the matrix. It’s all there.’ He nodded at the scroll.
Rhylan picked it up. ‘And this is indicative of what, exactly?’ His tone held an uncertainty that hadn’t been there before.
‘Again, I don’t know. But there’s a definite correlation. And with each conquest he makes, with each step nearer our sphere of influence, the disturbances grow stronger.’
‘There’s no doubt about this?’ his brother said, studying the scroll.
‘None.’ The Elder addressed them all. ‘Don’t you see? We have something here that’s unprecedented. If there’s the slightest prospect of it affecting our position we’re bound to act. We’ve survived as long as we have by anticipating threats, and stamping down hard at the first sign of any opposition to our power. Ask yourselves this: what do we have to lose by taking action, bar a few lives amongst the lower orders? Inaction, on the other hand, could prove disastrous.’
Largely favourable murmurs rose from the Council.
‘I propose we vote on this,’ a supporter suggested.
‘Those in agreement with military action as outlined,’ Jacinth said, ‘raise your hands.’ He scanned the table. ‘And against?’ There was a quick reckoning. ‘The ayes have it.’
But only just.
Rhylan got up. ‘A word on behalf of the naysayers, brother?’
The Elder nodded.
‘There’s wisdom in what you’ve told us, as usual. But I know you’ll respect the reservations some of us have. In recognition of that, I’d like to suggest a rider to the Council’s decision.’
‘Of course.’
‘We should be kept fully informed at every stage of this operation.’
‘Naturally, that goes without saying.’
‘And in the event of any mishap, any hint that this enterprise was misconceived, a further vote shall be taken with a view to instantly recalling our forces. The outcome of such a ballot to be absolutely binding.’
‘You ask no more than that which would have been freely given, Rhylan. So be it.’ He rose. ‘There are busy days ahead and we all have our tasks. Unless anyone else wishes to speak…? Good. Then I suggest we adjourn and go about our business.’
The Council dispersed in whispering groups.
But the brothers lingered, and, as one, moved back to the pit.
The Elder gestured, reactivating the silvery mass. Visions came again. Views of the streets, squares and parks of Jecellam, once the most orderly of all capitals, now fraying at the edges.
Snow had begun to fall. It dusted the shoulders of dissenters and enforcers alike, and tempered unlawful fires, but it did nothing to quench the passion for justice.
At a silent command from the Elder, the empire’s largest port came into focus. A great invasion fleet was at anchor there. Lines of stevedores chained provisions from hundreds of wagons jamming the dockside, while battalions of harbour marshals swelled the crowd, making preparations for the embarkation of a waiting army. Ships were so numerous they queued out into the bay; a seemingly endless prospect of nodding masts and fluttering sails.
And beyond, the vast expanse of a heaving ocean.
12
Flying the colours of the freebooter alliance, around a dozen ships lay at anchor within sight of the Diamond Isle.
The small fleet’s number had recently been reduced. Not through the attrition of warfare, but a cause less predictable, and one that left fury in its wake.
On the deck of the largest vessel, Kingdom Vance vented his anger.
‘Three ships! Three damn ships, and two score men!’
‘So you said,’ Kinsel Rukanis told him.
Vance turned from the rail and faced the singer. ‘You find this amusing?’
‘Instructive would be a better word.’ He was shivering from the cold, and found little protection in his threadbare garments.
‘Instructive? The only lesson I draw is that a bunch of turncoats switched sides.’
‘Have you thought why?’
‘Why?’ There was genuine menace in his tone. ‘Because they’re cowards!’
>
‘Isn’t it possible they deserted because they realised the futility of what you’re trying to do?’
‘That’s just another way of saying they’re spineless. I’m better off without scum like that.’
‘Or could it be that they saw the justice of the rebels’ cause?’
Vance laughed cynically. ‘They’re fools as well as lily-livered if they think that. They deserve each other.’
‘You surprise me, Captain. I thought you’d feel an affinity with the rebels, given they stand against the authorities.’
‘Then you think wrong, singer. I’ve no love for the empires, but at least you know where you are with them. They’ve got power, and don’t have any scruples about using it. I can respect that. The only thing of any account in this world is what you can grab with your own two hands.’
‘If that’s what you truly believe, I’m sorry for you.’
‘Save your pity for yourself, Rukanis. And think on this. The people on that island chose to leave their homes and come here. By doing that they deprived us of a land of our own. That makes them my enemy.’
‘Who’s being self-pitying now? You chose your way of life. Were you forced into piracy? Did somebody hold a blade to your throat? No. Make an accommodation with the islanders, Vance, as your deserters have. End this lunacy.’
‘You come out with that refrain as regularly as any of your airs, and I’m growing tired of it. There’ll be no truces or climb-downs. And the ones who ran out on me are going to pay for it when I take that island.’
‘If you take it.’
Lightning swift, Vance swung his fist into the side of Rukanis’s head. It was a savage blow, and the singer would have fallen if he hadn’t been standing with his back to a mast. His cheek instantly reddened. A dribble of blood seeped from his swelling lip.
‘You’re forgetting the nature of our relationship,’ Vance hissed, his face close. ‘Prisoner and captor, not equals. You’re not somebody I take advice from.’
Rukanis spat blood on the deck, then met his gaze. ‘Is hearing the truth really such an unfamiliar experience for you?’
The pirate made to strike him again, but hesitated, and finally stayed his hand. ‘To hell with it.’ He turned away, leaving Rukanis to dab at his mouth with a shirt cuff. ‘It’s only a question of time before I get what I want,’ Vance promised. ‘And you’re going to help me.’
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