Moon's Artifice

by Tom Lloyd

  Olos was silent a moment, watching Caric manoeuvre the crate into a position where it could fit through the small gate. Gauntlet-clad hands reached out from within to help and together they turned it to scrape through.

  ‘You are right, Jehq,’ Olos said with a nod, ‘and I am not ignorant of how we reached this point. How long do you think this will take ?’

  ‘Shoolen ?’ Jehq called through the gate, prompting a thin, black-skinned man to dart out. ‘Have you finished here ?’

  ‘All done, Father,’ the Dragon said with a subservient bob of the head. ‘They’re all down ; had their medicine more’n an hour past.’

  ‘Then we’re ready to proceed,’ Jehq confirmed. ‘Go up to the hospital and finish off there.’ He turned to Olos. ‘We need physical contact for each one, but it should only be a matter of moments to complete the process. Our pet demon is quick about its tasks and it was born just for this.’

  ‘And so the moon rises,’ Father Olos intoned. The act of speaking the words seemed to give him strength and he went inside with renewed purpose. Jehq watched the man with a small smile.

  ‘Indeed it does,’ he muttered. ‘Let’s just hope the stars don’t get there first.’

  It was chilly in the Lord Martial’s chamber – a round room on the top floor of the Palace of Law, exposed to the vagrant sea breezes through three tall windows. Rhe stood perfectly still in the middle of the room, hands behind his back and staring straight ahead at the painting of the Emperor facing him.

  On the Lord Martial’s polished oak desk was an oil lamp from which shone warm golden light. It resembled an orrery, the head of the lamp a great brass sun with the constellations of the Gods cut into it, while through the windows shone a colder light from the grey sky.

  ‘You and Law Master Sheven are agreed ?’ Lord Martial ald Har said at last. ‘This is the correct course ?’ He looked up from his desk, his startling red-tinted eyes looking infernal and incongruous with his lined, aged face.

  ‘We are, my Lord. If we are wrong, if the girl has lied and circumstances have worked out to deceive me, the result will simply be wasted effort and my personal humiliation. That is a price worth paying, but I am not wrong. This much I know.’

  ‘Men will die. This is unprecedented.’

  ‘I understand. We do not suggest it lightly, but the reckoning has come.’

  Ald Har let out a heavy sigh and stood. Walking around the desk he headed to the nearest of the double-height windows and opened it. The window faced south-east, towards Confessor’s Island. On a clear day the awkward lump of Confessor’s Hill was visible seven or eight miles in the distance, over the headland outside the city. He was quiet a long while – long enough that Rhe was forced to wonder what was going through his mind.

  ‘Answer me this, Lawbringer,’ Lord ald Har said after a long while. ‘Do you aspire to this office ?’

  Rhe blinked. ‘I … I do not know,’ he admitted at last.

  ‘No ? You are the presumptive heir in the eyes of the city – not to me, unless I live well into my dotage, but to someone, surely ?’

  ‘I realise others consider me so,’ Rhe said stiffly. ‘It is not the only thing expected of me by some.’

  ‘Ah yes, Godhood. Well then, do you aspire to that ? To be an Ascendant God and live among the stars ?’

  ‘I aspire to be worthy …’ Rhe stopped. ‘No, that sounds rehearsed and I would not have you think of me that way. I have thought about it, it is hard not to when the city’s gossips suggest such a thing. But Godhood ? How does a man even consider such a thing ? The later Ascendants were all raised – or rather noticed by the Gods – through near-perfection in some discipline. They were considered supreme by mortal standards, but what does that mean to me ? There is a Lord Lawbringer already ; what would perfection in my chosen discipline bring me ? How could that even be measured ?’

  Rhe shook his head. ‘And most importantly – when I see I am not suited to a mortal supremacy, the position you hold, how could I aspire to higher ?’

  ‘You feel yourself unworthy ?’

  ‘Worthiness cannot be so easily judged – suitability is another thing entirely. You are the Emperor’s servant, but you are also the face who must defend this corner of authority against the Great Houses ; against the priests of every temple and likely factions of Imperial castes too.’

  Ald Har nodded at that. ‘We are servants of the Emperor, not noblemen. You of all castes are aware of that.’

  ‘One look at my assigned rooms is reminder enough,’ Rhe said. The Lord Martial turned with a questioning look, but an awkward smile told him it had been a poorly-executed attempt at levity rather than a complaint.

  ‘Administration can be learned,’ ald Har continued. ‘There are clerks able to manage the load and the Law Masters are yours to command.’

  ‘I know, but it would not be enough. You are an inspiration, a leader – I … I am an ideal at best. The others choose to believe what they will about me and so my legend is furthered, but that does not equip me to manage politicians, to negotiate or be a leader of men.’

  ‘Yet that is exactly what you intend to do.’

  It was Rhe’s turn to be silent for a while. ‘I suppose so – but while it was ideals that brought me to the Lawbringers, I was always out of place in my House. Unwilling to live a life of idleness, I could see no place for me within the military. I am not a man to follow ; I am not a man to lead. I heard one playwright called me an army of one, but they don’t know how right they are.

  ‘I despise soldiers as deeply as courtiers. The single consuming purpose of combat – that I understand, but the unthinking, thuggish aggression men mistake for prowess ? They could be an army of dogs, trained to heel and worked up into frenzy when required. But the strictures of an army, the regulations and structure ? The forced shelter of comradeship ? The purpose I aspire to – I crave – is not to be found within an army. I do not know if it is even to be found within the Lawbringers, but here at least I know that my efforts can be turned to a greater good.’

  ‘Have you read the writings of Lord Duellist ?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘And ?’

  ‘And he and I are of the same mind,’ Rhe hesitated, ‘except in one respect.’

  ‘Which is ?’

  ‘The man who was to become a God thought to teach others what he had learned, to tell the whole world the shape of his thoughts.’

  The Lord Martial gave him a long appraising look. ‘When you read his treatises, you couldn’t understand why he’d bothered to write such a thing down ?’

  Rhe nodded. ‘I was young and it had never occurred to me that others would not think that way. He described the shape of the world, nothing more. What need do I have of reading the sky is blue, that the Gods orbit above us ? For Duellist it was the end of a journey of enlightenment. In my heart I feel no awakening, no understanding or revelatory insight. There is just the prism through which I view the world – I cannot truly conceive how others might believe the sky is green. And that is, perhaps, the reason I will never be suited for Godhood.’

  ‘Nor for this room,’ ald Har said, gesturing around them. There was a flush to his cheeks, Rhe saw. Anger ? Disappointment ? ‘Not that you cannot think as others might, but that you don’t struggle. There is no conflict within you, no doubt or interest in the path not taken. That is why I fear to approve your scheme – you don’t fear death. You don’t fear anything, not truly, and what happens to those who follow a fearless man ?’

  ‘I can offer no assurances there,’ Rhe said quietly, feeling stripped to the bone by the aging Lawbringer’s words. ‘Only that I will be at the fore of them when they meet danger.’

  ‘That is precisely my fear. However, I can see no other course of action, so you have my approval – and may the Gods be with you.’

  Chapter 26

  Many see the Empire as a great tapestry, an intricate design of beauty and skill. Unfortunately, the analogy can be extended – our
rigid society is a tight weave indeed. Unpick one part and more than you ever intended could unravel, so the Astaren are careful to cut off any idle fingers poised to pull a stray thread.

  From A History by Ayel Sorote

  Narin watched the rain fall through half-closed curtains. It lasted only a few minutes, a brief shower to wash the harbour clean as the second wave of boats set out for Confessor’s Island. He stared at every face below him, careful to keep back in the shadows of the darkened room, but driven to try and pick out individuals among the crowd.

  Most were masked, supposedly against the fever, and were impossible to identify. He began to fit builds to those men and women he knew ; a fearful imagination that folk he trusted might yet turn out to be one of the goshe. There, a heavyset man with tightly-rolled shirtsleeves, black hair cropped close to the scalp, could have been Irato at that distance. Three or four who could have been Enchei, greying hair and average builds – one, Lord Vanden with coffee-coloured skin and a slight paunch. There was even a substitute for Kine, slender and dark with her hair tied back in a bun – but the gait gave her away as a stranger.

  Her, at least, I’d know. Even in such a crowd, I’d recognise her.

  Cartloads of the sick arrived from every alley, the fever-struck propped limp against each other or lying flat on stretchers. Some were carried or dragged on improvised travois, brought by others in the clothes of their trade ; surely too many to all be goshe. The people of the city – fuelled by fear of leaving their sick neighbours close to family or driven by concern for the stricken – had mustered of their own volition to help the goshe.

  The white-clad doctors and their helpers – a few in goshe black but many more not so conspicuously dressed – moved among them, identifying some who’d succumbed, guiding others towards the boats. Not all were insensate, Narin noticed during his vigil as one hour dragged on into a second. A fair number were enfeebled, able to walk with assistance, and he saw those given preference on the boats.

  Law Master Sheven had Lawbringers out on the harbour walk too – only a small number, but they were engaged in an opposite effort wherever possible. The enfeebled were mostly the stronger adults, fit and healthy men and women most likely to be trained at a Shure. In the name of mercy, Sheven’s small cadre of supervisors were trying to get the old and youngest preference, without sparking a confrontation. They had no way of telling whether the sick were genuine or not, but they could at least hamper the rate at which goshe soldiers were transported to their island.

  ‘How’re you feeling ?’ Kesh asked behind him.

  Narin gave a start. He’d not heard her come in. ‘Me ? Well enough.’ He shifted his feet and unconsciously put one hand to his stomach.

  ‘There’s no place for heroics here,’ she warned him. ‘You sure ?’

  ‘So speaks the woman who shouldn’t even be here,’ Narin said in reply.

  ‘That’s different – I’m staying to do what I can, but I’m not pretending to be strong when I’m not.’

  ‘Good for you.’ He gestured to the long rows of sick out on the harbour walk. ‘It’s almost midday and they’re still loading most of this second journey. Doubt they’ll get more than four trips.’

  ‘Have you been able to keep count ? Any idea how many are out there ?’

  ‘Hundreds,’ was all Narin could say.

  He flexed the scraped, scabbed fingers of his right hand, watching the skin move as he tested his strength. His stave stood to one side and Narin picked it up, rolling his shoulders in a few slow strikes to test how easily he could use the weapon.

  ‘Get some rest,’ Kesh advised, watching him carefully. ‘What they put you through, you need some sleep. We’re not moving until close to dusk anyway.’

  ‘I can’t sleep.’ Narin turned back to the window, careful to keep his expression hidden from Kesh. ‘I’ve tried.’

  He heard a tiny sound from her, abruptly cut-off as Kesh thought better of arguing. For a moment his eyes did close and his head bowed, but it was not sleep that gripped him and his hand was shaking by the time he looked up again.

  ‘Is Enchei here ?’

  ‘Went back to the inn, said he had to fetch a few things.’

  ‘Is that safe ?’

  Kesh gave a snort. ‘Seems the old man can handle himself. If they’ve bothered leaving anyone to watch the place, they’ll get a nasty surprise.’

  ‘Irato ?’

  ‘Downstairs, seeing to our weapons. It was either that or he was just going to stare at the wall for the next few hours, so I gave him a job to do.’

  Narin looked around for his own daggers, then remembered he’d left them with the rest of their weapons. The house belonged to a family Kesh knew, or what was left of it anyway. The father and two youngest children had been taken by the fever and sent to the island on one of the first boats. There was a mother and son left, but along with hundreds of others they had packed a few belongings and left early in the morning – keen to be out of the fever-struck city until the worst was over.

  How many had made that decision Narin couldn’t tell, but Kesh reported a steady stream of people heading towards the outskirts of the city. On her return journey from the Palace of Law the numbers had been marked – there were easily more fleeing than there were helping the sick to the docks. By the end of the day, he knew, things would start to get desperate. Panic would set in, violence would break out and shops would be looted, most likely. Where the limited numbers of the Lawbringers would be placed amid all that, Narin didn’t quite know.

  ‘What did your mother say ?’

  ‘What ?’ Kesh asked, startled. ‘My mother ? What do you think ? She was angry. She’s still grieving for Emari, for Pity’s sake – what did you think she’d say ?’

  Narin shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I was just thinking about Kine. I’m not going to have the chance to say goodbye.’

  ‘It’s not going to be goodbye,’ Kesh insisted fiercely. ‘We’re getting through this, okay ?’

  ‘You don’t know that.’ Before Kesh could reply Narin held up a hand. ‘Wait, I don’t mean to be sounding so sorry for myself. I just meant I …’

  His expression turned to one of frustration and his shoulders sank as he struggled to find the words for what he now felt.

  ‘You’ve unfinished business ?’ Kesh asked quietly. ‘The baby you and Enchei were talking about earlier ?’

  ‘Pretty much,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen, got no damn clue, but I’ve not seen her since this all started. I don’t know how she is, what danger she’s in – I’ve not even been able to try and do something about it. Can’t say I know what I should be doing, but ah, stars in heaven ! I wish there was time to at least try. We’re risking our necks and you know it – that part I don’t mind, a Lawbringer’s got to accept that. But … Ah …’

  ‘But doing so while Kine’s in danger goes against your oaths,’ Kesh finished.

  ‘Gods, it’s more than the oaths ! What sort of a man does that ? Puts a woman and child in danger without even trying to do something about it ?’

  Kesh was quiet a while, then she came closer and took hold of Narin’s arm. ‘Look at yourself, Narin,’ she said. ‘You’ve been attacked and chased halfway across the city, then kidnapped and tortured ; you’re only upright because of some damn magery of Enchei’s. Now’s not the time for blaming yourself or asking what more you could have done. That you’re still going is better than could be expected of anyone.

  ‘Now come downstairs, sit and eat something. You want to do something for Kine ? Make sure you’ve got enough strength to survive the night, that’s all she’d ask for. That’s all she’d pray for.’

  ‘Not sure what use I’m going to be in a fight,’ he said, wincing as they headed for the door. ‘Certainly not against any goshe elite.’

  ‘Neither of us will, but when were we ever going to try to win a fair fight ? Enchei’s got something far better in mind. It needs a few brave men to pull it of
f, but I think we can find a couple of those.’

  Narin smiled weakly. ‘A brave woman too.’

  ‘Pah. I’m not brave, I’m clever – and I intend to be alive at the end of this.’ Kesh patted his hand. ‘I’ll leave bravery to you idiots.’

  Fragments of orange cut across the sky as the sun reached the horizon. White-robed doctors on the speckled pebble beach seemed to shine like beacons in the fading light. Above them, against the darkening sky, were the cloud-smeared constellations of Knight, but all eyes watched as the last wave of boats came in from the city. The crests of waves out in the bay beyond glowed brief and elusive in the evening light, faint echoes of the great beacons on the headland beyond.

  From above the main gate, Synter watched the boats drive for the beach, each captain eager to unload his fever-stricken cargo and turn around before night truly took hold.

  ‘Atash,’ she called softly to the man below.

  The Wolf turned to look up at her, the last of the light imbuing a strange fire to his yellow eyes. ‘Aye, sir.’

  ‘Father Jehq says we’re close. We won’t need all of these.’

  ‘I should kill ’em ?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ she snapped. ‘Point is, get the first couple dozen up to the hospital quick as you can. Might be we don’t need them at all, but they can’t hurt. The others we’ll still use, but most importantly we need that starting jolt.’

  She looked back towards the hospital ; a torch-lit lump a mile off. ‘Here come your helpers. Get the first lot unloaded and send ’em on, then lock down the beach. No one goes anywhere until you hear from me or you feel the moon rise, okay ?’

  Atash grinned nervously. ‘Aye – the moon rising with a thousand voices in my head. Reckon I’ll notice that !’

  ‘Damn right you will – until then, keep sharp. If any God or demon’s paying attention, I reckon they’ll notice too.’

  The man gave her a sloppy salute and headed back down the beach to meet the first boat. Synter checked around at the forces they’d left there. Only thirty-odd goshe stood on the beach, weapons hidden or lying flat on the ground so it wouldn’t look like they were quite so obviously on guard. Ten Detenii occupied the wall, crossbows with firepowder heads to hand in case the worst happened.