by Lucy Hounsom
Hagdon swallowed something that felt suspiciously like a lump in his throat. ‘That’s treasonous talk,’ he said, his voice hard and hushed, ‘and I don’t want to hear it from you again.’
Silence descended. Without Carn’s banter, Hagdon’s thoughts turned back to the horror at hand. He glanced at the reports from a dozen sources laid out before him, though he’d read them enough times to make his eyeballs ache. Fire, they all said. Hundreds dead.
‘“The very earth cracked open”,’ he recited, seizing one grubby sheet of paper. ‘“Flames roared out of the chasm. Men of the third division trapped. Burned to death.”’
Carn came to stand behind his shoulder, leaning over to read the report. ‘“The siege engines melted like metal in a forge.” That was our remaining artillery?’
‘Most of it,’ Hagdon said, massaging his forehead. ‘A few remain in the garrison at Artiba.’
‘A Starborn,’ Carn whispered. ‘After five hundred years.’
Hagdon clenched a fist, brought it down on the table. Papers jumped and scattered. ‘The boy warned me,’ he said. ‘She had markings she didn’t want seen. I should have put two and two together.’
‘You can’t blame yourself,’ Carn answered. ‘How could you ever have foreseen a Starborn?’
‘An officer’s job is to foresee such things. Every eventuality, no matter how unlikely, has to be considered.’ Hagdon briefly closed his eyes. ‘Those deaths hang around my neck.’
‘It’s a miracle you escaped,’ Carn said. ‘A few more moments and you’d have been killed with the third division.’
‘In a just world, I ought to have been.’
‘I don’t care for this side of you,’ Carn said, stepping away. ‘Self-pity doesn’t suit you, James.’
Hagdon didn’t rise to the bait, not with duty weighing so heavily upon him.
‘Does the emperor know?’ the bondsman asked.
‘He will by now. Locke’s ravens are swift.’
Carn began to gather up the fallen reports. ‘What will he do?’
It was a good question and one Hagdon feared the answer to. ‘The Starborn made overtures of peace,’ he said. ‘Lieutenant Frexen laughed in her face.’
‘He was among the dead, I take it?’
Hagdon nodded. ‘I doubt she’ll make the offer a second time.’
‘So we’ve just made an enemy of a Starborn.’
‘I’ve made an enemy of a Starborn.’ He glanced up at Carn. ‘You know what the last one did.’
‘Halted the Conquest,’ Carn answered unnecessarily. ‘Took a whole continent and all its people away from the empire.’
‘And that was in an age when Sartya was strong. We’re weak now, and weakening further by the day.’ Hagdon leaned back in his chair. ‘Ambertrix was our best weapon. With it, we brought down Solinaris. Without it …’ He shook his head.
‘Why is she travelling with so few companions?’ Carn asked. ‘I’d have thought to see her at the head of an army.’
‘If she genuinely wants peace, she wouldn’t bring a significant military presence onto Acrean soil.’ Hagdon picked up a map, stabbed a finger at the hoarlands. ‘But who knows? Maybe she’s strong enough not to need an army. Look what she’s already done. Or she could have a force stationed just over the border, waiting to march on her word. I might’ve doomed us all.’ ‘We know nothing about Rairam,’ Carn countered. ‘Such a force might not exist, particularly if the Starborn’s primary objective is to seek a truce.’
Carn might have a point. A vulnerable nation would indeed favour diplomacy. ‘The Davaratch will want Rairam scouted out at the earliest opportunity,’ Hagdon said. ‘In a way I hope you’re wrong. If it transpires that there is no force …’
‘He’ll march on Rairam,’ the bondsman finished. ‘The Starborn’s homeland.’
Once, the prospect of a new conquest would have excited him. When he was young and brazen with zeal. Before the deaths of his nephew and sister, and the Davaratch’s obsession with Khronosta. Now the thought of invading Rairam filled Hagdon with dread: the old war revived, the killing beginning anew and another Starborn on the loose. ‘I hope you’re wrong,’ he repeated softly.
‘General Hagdon.’
Lieutenant Malker was standing in the entrance to his tent, a small crowd of ranking soldiers gathered behind him. The sight raised Hagdon’s hackles. He’d never really taken to the supercilious officer. And apart from Tara, whom Hagdon had fought beside, Malker was the only lieutenant to survive Khronosta. He’d been mysteriously absent from the fight. ‘What is it?’ Hagdon asked brusquely.
‘The men wish to know how you’ll answer the Starborn’s crimes,’ Malker said. His face was hard. He’d been a close friend of Frexen, Hagdon recalled. ‘She killed hundreds of soldiers, a dozen officers among them. The Fist won’t forget.’ He curled his hand around the hilt of his long sword, glanced at those behind. ‘We want her dead.’
Hagdon rose to his feet. ‘The situation is complex, Lieutenant. The way in which we’re seen to deal with the Starborn may have serious political consequences.’
‘Politics be damned,’ Malker snarled. ‘She’s a murderer. We demand justice.’
Hagdon narrowed his eyes. ‘Watch your tone, Lieutenant. While I abhor the Starborn’s actions, I will not move without the emperor’s say so. More is at stake than justice for dead soldiers. Every one of them knew their duty.’ He swept his gaze over the rest of the officers. Most wouldn’t meet it. ‘I expect you to know yours.’
Malker glanced at their downturned eyes and his anger seemed to double. ‘I won’t serve a coward,’ he said.
Someone drew a sharp breath. A few officers at the rear of the group melted away, as if to distance themselves from Malker, though Hagdon had already committed their faces to memory. The tent was very quiet. ‘Can someone remind me of the penalty for insubordination?’ he asked.
The silence endured a few moments longer before a deep voice called, ‘Fifteen lashes, General.’ The younger officers parted to let Commandant Taske through. He was a man in his fifties, his shorn hair a grey fuzz over his scalp. His pale eyes were chill as they regarded Malker with contempt. ‘At the very least. Such a statement is unbefitting a lieutenant.’
‘Make it so,’ Hagdon said and two officers who’d entered with Taske seized Malker’s arms. To his credit, the lieutenant didn’t protest as he was bundled roughly out of the tent. But his last baleful glare stayed with Hagdon. Like a parasite, it burrowed into the back of his mind and festered there. ‘The rest of you are dismissed,’ he said. ‘The Starborn will answer for her crimes as the emperor sees fit.’
Taske remained behind. ‘I apologize, General,’ he said. ‘Had I been more attentive, I’d never have permitted such a scene to occur. Malker needs watching.’
Hagdon sank into his chair. His shoulder grumbled at the movement, sending an angry pulse through his chest. He winced. ‘Thank you, Commandant, but I should have expected it. In hundreds of years, there hasn’t been such a bloodbath. It’s no wonder the officers are upset.’
‘How do you think His Majesty will respond?’
‘A campaign to hunt her down, I expect. After that … I fear to say.’
The commandant nodded and took a few steps closer to Hagdon’s desk. ‘If you’ll permit me, sir, I would consider the afternoon’s events a warning. This business with the Starborn has stirred up the men. Rivalries abound and, without imperial direction, your position is not so strong as it might be.’
Hagdon looked up sharply. ‘You’re talking mutiny.’
‘That’s a strong word, General. Let’s say … uncertainty.’ Taske’s gaze was oddly penetrating, as if he wished to convey something more than he said. ‘The Fist has suffered an insult, which groups such as the Defiant will seek to exploit. As its general, you should move carefully.’
‘That’s the truth.’ Hagdon gingerly prodded the wound in his shoulder. ‘I appreciate the warning, Taske. Keep an eye on Malker and his l
ittle group.’
When the commandant had gone, Carn asked, ‘What purpose would a coup serve?’ He lowered his voice. ‘And why now?’
Hagdon looked through the empty brandy bottle at the reports Carn had restacked neatly on his desk. The glass distorted them, turning the inked words into some spiky, unintelligible language. ‘Because Relator Shune was right,’ he said. ‘Change is coming and we are not prepared.’
19
The Eastern Set
Brégenne
‘I wasn’t aware you were in my debt,’ Brégenne said, looking around the familiar deck. She recognized some of the crew from when she had sailed with Captain Argat before, but there were a few new faces too. Yara was presumably below, tending to the airship’s workings.
Argat grimaced. ‘It was your timely arrival in the Assembly that led to this.’ He swept out a hand. ‘Whether your warnings of war are true or not, my ship is free at last.’
‘I seem to recall that the situation was temporary.’
‘Do you?’ Argat’s eyes glittered. ‘Strange, because I don’t recall that at all.’
‘You didn’t have to help us.’ Despite Argat’s talk of a debt repaid, Brégenne knew he wouldn’t do something for nothing. ‘Those were Wielders after us,’ she said seriously. ‘They won’t forget this.’
‘Good.’ The captain’s smile showed his teeth.
Brégenne shook her head. ‘You have no idea. Gareth and I are wanted by Naris – they won’t give up until we’re caught.’
‘Naris,’ Argat said. ‘That’s where you and these other Wielders live?’
‘Yes. Beyond Murta.’
‘I see. And the people of Murta know about this?’
She nodded. ‘Our ancestors founded Murta at the same time they rebuilt the citadel so that we had a means of contact with the outside world. The families living there go back generations. They provide us with food and services and in return they’re well paid for their silence. There are some who aren’t aware – visitors, passing tradesmen and the like – but we’ve worked hard to keep strangers away.’ She gave him a searching look. ‘Even you, Captain, have a healthy respect for superstition.’
‘Astonishing,’ Argat mused, ‘to keep such a place secret.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘And more astonishing is why. With powers like yours, you could rule this world.’
‘So thought one of our former councilmen,’ Brégenne said, remembering Loricus and the plans he’d spoken of before he died. ‘But none of us can forget that the Wielders were almost destroyed in the Acrean war, which, we discovered recently, was only ended because of a Starborn named Kierik.’
‘Another myth.’ Argat had that magpie glint in his eye again. ‘It sounds as if you’ve a great deal to tell me. Preferably over dinner,’ he added.
‘I’d be happy to,’ Brégenne replied, conscious of Gareth standing unusually silent beside her. ‘But where are you planning on flying?’
‘Wherever the wind blows,’ Argat said. ‘I admit I hadn’t got as far as plotting a course. Yara would like to take her through a few manoeuvres.’ He ran a fond hand along the rail. ‘She’s new to freedom. We don’t know how she’ll perform without an anchor.’
Brégenne raised an eyebrow. ‘And us?’
‘As soon as Yara works out how to land her, I’ll set you down in a place of your choosing.’
‘As soon as she works out how to land her,’ Brégenne repeated flatly.
‘That’s right.’ Argat paused to bark off an order. ‘The Set’s never touched earth before. Lived all her life in the skies or in dock.’
Brégenne suppressed a groan. ‘But Yara can land her, correct?’
The captain shrugged. ‘Won’t know until she tries.’
While dinner was being prepared in the galley, Brégenne went to talk to Gareth. She found him standing at the starboard rail, staring at the blur of landscape beneath. The novice did not look good; shadows ringed his brown eyes, making them appear darker than they were and his face seemed paler – or was that a trick of the light?
Brégenne stood beside him, waiting for him to speak first. In their flight from the Wielders, she hadn’t had time to think about what Gareth had done to Magnus. Now the memory of the man’s jaw rotting before her eyes returned all too vividly. If Gareth was remembering it too, she knew why he was quiet.
‘What’s happening to me?’ the novice said finally in a softer voice than she’d ever heard him use. He took his gaze from the distant ground and looked at her. ‘I don’t feel … right, Brégenne.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked cautiously.
‘I feel not like me.’ After a few moments, he added, ‘And I’m cold all the time.’
He sounded very young all of a sudden and Brégenne gently touched his shoulder. ‘We’ll find a way, Gareth. I won’t give up.’
‘Why did it do that?’ Gareth asked, returning his gaze to the wind. ‘I only hit him. At least I think I did.’ His face clouded. ‘I’m not sure. And look.’ He took off the glove, pulled back his sleeve and Brégenne suppressed an exclamation. Every time she saw it, the gauntlet looked less like a piece of armour. It clung tighter to Gareth’s wrist as if it really were becoming a part of him.
‘I don’t like it,’ Gareth said, his voice still small and uncertain. ‘Please get it off, Brégenne.’
‘I will,’ she promised, but she remembered the black tendrils twisting beneath Gareth’s skin and wasn’t sure she could. She’d never encountered a type of magic that could rot flesh. Only death had that power. Brégenne looked at the circles around Gareth’s eyes and fought down a shiver.
‘It wasn’t like this when I first used it,’ Gareth said. ‘When I helped fight the Nerian, all it did was throw people. And it wasn’t that powerful. I remember each time I used it made it weaker. And it looked different then too.’
‘Keep it hidden,’ Brégenne advised, ‘especially from Argat. He takes an interest in such things.’
‘What are we going to do now?’ A little life returned to Gareth’s eyes. ‘It’s not that I won’t enjoy riding on an airship, but what about the Trade Assembly? Argat’s not going to turn about and pick up that Astra woman, is he? And she still has our horses.’ He looked more pained at that than at anything else.
‘I know.’ Brégenne bit her lip. Being forced to leave Myst behind was a blow, but she couldn’t see any alternative. She hoped the horses would be safe in Astra’s stables. What a mess, she thought. Between the Trade Assembly’s stupidity and Naris’s interference, she’d achieved nothing. So far, this had been a wasted journey. You knew it was going to be hard when you left Naris, she reminded herself. But there were so many things she hadn’t anticipated which she ought to have done – like the unrest in the capital. And she should have guessed it would take more than a show of power to convince the Trade Assembly that they didn’t know as much about the world as they thought.
‘Why haven’t we heard from the others?’ Gareth said, adding another worry to her plate. ‘I wish I knew what Shika was doing. Irilin too.’
Brégenne wished she knew what Nediah was doing. Could something have happened to separate Kyndra’s group? ‘We’re sticking to our original plan,’ she said, putting her fear firmly aside. ‘The Trade Assembly aren’t the only power in Mariar.’
Gareth sighed. ‘You still want to go to Ümvast.’
‘Naris needs allies, Gareth, even if Veeta and Gend don’t think so. And Ümvast should be warned. His lands border Acre in the west.’
Gareth shook his head. ‘I don’t think you’ll find the welcome you hope for.’
His reluctance was half annoying, half intriguing. It was plain Gareth didn’t want to go home. ‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘When Master Hanser took you away?’
The novice turned to look towards the boundaries of the Great Forest, still many leagues north across hill and valley, beyond the frontier town of Svartas. ‘I gave it up,’ he said softly.
‘Gave what up?’
Ga
reth returned his eyes to hers. ‘Everything.’
*
‘So you see,’ Brégenne finished later over dinner, ‘Kyndra needed the earth of Acre to help her reunite the two lands.’
‘You tell an incredible story, woman, almost too incredible to be believed.’ Captain Argat took a healthy swig of wine. ‘And I consider myself among the more open-minded of folk.’ He paused to put down his glass. ‘Of course it explains why the girl was drawn to the earth in the first place. I’m not ashamed to say that the whole situation set my teeth on edge.’
Remembering Argat’s mad pursuit of them across the wastes, Brégenne thought that a vast understatement. She regarded the captain with a certain amount of wariness – they hadn’t exactly parted as friends. But Argat was a gambler, one of those men to whom the world owed its momentum, and he could be of use. The question was: how far should she trust him?
‘Our business with the Trade Assembly did not go as planned,’ Brégenne said carefully. ‘I knew it would be difficult to convince them of the need to prepare for a potential invasion, but without your corroboration they wouldn’t even have believed Wielders still existed.’
‘They’ve never been confronted with a situation to match the one in Market Primus,’ Argat replied. ‘They’re out of their depth and desperately treading water. No fewer than three different Traders approached me asking for help with various situations. My price, of course, was access to private Assembly meetings.’
Although she was curious, Brégenne stopped herself from asking what those situations entailed. ‘I didn’t plan to leave so suddenly,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I could have—’
‘You’ve neglected to talk about your pursuers.’ The captain speared a curl of ham, dipped it in mustard and raised it to his mouth. ‘From where I was standing, they looked distinctly unfriendly.’ The words were slightly muffled by chewing. Argat swallowed and said, ‘Made some enemies, have you?’
‘Not everyone in Naris agrees with me,’ Brégenne admitted. ‘I might have left the citadel precipitously. And I didn’t exactly advertise my going.’
