by K. J. Parker
‘Nothing we can do about that, of course,’ said the short, dumpy woman by his side. ‘A pity. What I really need most is a good clerk, but with no fingers to speak of on her writing hand she’s never going to be much use to me.’
The red and blue light from the great window burnt on Iseutz’s sword-blade, a long, thin strip of straight steel foreshortened by the perspective into an extension of her hand, a single pointing finger.
‘Unless,’ Niessa went on, ‘she learns to write with her left hand. A surprising number of people can, you know. Look sharp, Alexius, this is the bit where she kills him.’
Alexius saw Bardas move forward; Iseutz reacted, parrying backhand, high, then recovered into a fluent lunge that bypassed Bardas’ attempted parry -
- That was stopped and flicked aside by Bardas’ masterful defence, leaving her to stumble forward a step and catch hold of his shoulder to steady herself.
‘Damn,’ she said.
‘Never mind,’ Bardas replied. ‘You’re getting there. Let’s try it once more, and this time, anticipate.’
‘Oh, very neatly done,’ Niessa said, as Alexius looked up and saw the hammer-beam roof of the fencing schools where the dome of the courtroom had been a moment before. ‘Very economical. Stylish, even.’
‘Thank you,’ Alexius replied. ‘What did I do, exactly?’
Niessa patted his arm. ‘Let’s see,’ she said. ‘Let’s start with what you haven’t done. You haven’t changed what’s actually happened; Iseutz did fight Bardas and have her fingers cut off, and she did want to kill him, and she did get a really rather horrible sort of revenge on him by telling him about Gorgas opening the gates. What you have done is set her mind at rest; now she reckons that what she did was far better than killing him, because - well, I don’t suppose he’d have minded all that much being killed, but right now I should think he’s feeling quite awful. And she’ll be pleased because she’ll figure she’s paid out Gorgas and me as well as Bardas. In consequence, maybe she’ll stop hating me and start making herself useful. As I told you, I really do need a helper - right-hand man, I almost said, but really that’s not the best way to describe Iseutz.’
Alexius thought for a moment. ‘To replace Gorgas, you mean?’
Niessa nodded. ‘He was hopeless. My own fault for putting family above business. His ridiculous war ruined a successful business and wasted years of hard work; but he always wanted to be a soldier, bless him, just like Bardas and Uncle Maxen.’
Alexius watched the fencing lesson for a few moments. ‘You don’t seem too upset,’ he said. ‘About losing the Bank.’
‘One must be practical,’ Niessa replied. ‘When something’s in such a mess that there’s nothing to be done about it, you turn around and go away.’
‘Like Gorgas did?’
‘Exactly. And between you and me, it wasn’t as great a loss as you’d think. Given our position and the way Shastel saw us, there wasn’t a future in the business. Getting out when I did, at least I was able to salvage the ready money and negotiable assets. And,’ she went on, ‘being brutal about it, I’ve got rid of a serious liability, namely Gorgas. Time now to move on to better things.’
‘Niessa—’ Alexius said—
—And opened his eyes.
‘Alexius,’ said Bardas Loredan. ‘Are you all right?’
Alexius’ brow furrowed. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘What’s going on?’
Bardas sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘You’re in the master’s cabin aboard the Squirrel, Vetriz Auzeil’s ship. We’re going to the Island. You had a funny turn up on deck. How are you feeling now?’
Alexius smiled. ‘A bit of a headache, that’s about all.’
‘I see. A headache headache, or an industrial injury?’
‘A genuine headache, I think,’ Alexius replied. ‘So what happened? With Anaut Mogre and the army?’
Bardas shrugged. ‘It all seemed remarkably quiet and tame when we left,’ he said. ‘If all goes well, there won’t be any trouble.’
Alexius nodded. ‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘You saved a lot of lives, handling it the way you did.’
‘Did I?’ Bardas shook his head. ‘Well then, good for me. To tell you the truth, I didn’t particularly care what happened. It made better sense not to have another battle.’
Alexius reached out, put his hand on Bardas’ wrist. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘what happened between you and Gorgas? You did something that made him cut and run.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Bardas said.
‘Please yourself. In any event, it ended the war, so whatever it was it was worth it.’
Bardas laughed. ‘I suppose I did, yes,’ he said. ‘I guess you could call that coming to good through evil. But it was the last thing on my mind at the time, so it doesn’t really count.’
Alexius looked at him, but there was nothing to see in his face. ‘Have you thought what you’re going to do next?’ he said.
Bardas shook his head. ‘Something that has nothing to do with carpentry,’ he said. ‘I think I’ve suddenly become allergic to the smell of glue.’
A man and a child, in flight from the fall of their city—
The big bald man grinned at the thought; city after city, a pattern emerging. He could elaborate; city gates opened by a brother - he’d heard the news from Scona when they made landfall at Boul. Bardas had done well.
‘Niessa.’
The little girl in his lap opened her eyes and looked up at him.
‘What’s the matter?’ she said. ‘I’m sleepy.’
‘Niessa, Mummy won’t be joining us. She’s staying at home.’
‘Oh.’ Niessa looked thoughtful. ‘Why?’
Gorgas sucked at his lower lip. ‘Mummy and Daddy don’t want to live with each other any more. So you’re going to come and live with me on the farm. It’ll be great fun; there’s cows and sheep and horses and all sorts of animals.’
‘Oh.’ Niessa considered the matter for a moment. ‘If we’re going to live on the farm, can I have a rabbit in a cage?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ Gorgas said. ‘Your Aunt Niessa had a rabbit when she was a little girl. In fact, the hutch is probably still around the place somewhere.’
The girl nodded. ‘And then we’ll go home and see Mummy again, won’t we?’ she said.
‘We’ll see,’ Gorgas replied. ‘Go back to sleep now.’
When she was fast asleep, Gorgas tucked her into the bed and went up on deck. ’How much longer?’ he asked the helmsman.
‘At this rate, a couple of hours and we’ll see Tornoys Point,’ he replied.
Gorgas nodded. ‘That’s good,’ he said, and looked back over the stern of the ship at the two sails following close behind. ‘Where’s the master-at-arms?’
The helmsman pointed, and Gorgas hopped down onto the main deck. There were details to be sorted out - always details to be sorted out, whether the army is fifty or four hundred - and one neglected detail can destroy an army as easily as a shower of arrows.
‘It ought to be child’s play,’ he told the master-at-arms. ‘After all, they’ve got no standing army, no government, most of them haven’t even got weapons, and there’s no towns or even villages, so there’s nowhere for them to gang up on us or hide.’
The master grinned. ‘A bunch of peasants stand up to the man who wiped out the Shastel army? Don’t see it myself.’
Gorgas accepted the compliment with a polite nod. It was touching, the faith these men had shown in him, their loyalty; enough for them to leave their homes and families and follow him. Now, the army was their family, and his too.
‘Nor me,’ Gorgas said. ‘Which is why I reckon a hundred and fifty men’s going to be more than enough. Just so long as we take it steady, don’t antagonise them unnecessarily, they should just give up and cave in. It’s a national characteristic, really.’
‘You should know,’ the master replied. ‘Funny sort of a place to w
ant to invade, though.’
Gorgas smiled at him. ‘Don’t think of it as an invasion,’ he said. ‘That’s got all the wrong connotations.’ He turned his head and looked out to sea, in the direction of Tornoys Point, gateway to the Mesoge. ‘I prefer to think of it as the home-coming of the local boy who’s finally made good.’
