Fragile Empire

by Christopher Mitchell

Nyane frowned. ‘Do any involve a young friend of ours?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Dyam, ‘but I have contingencies as well. Just in case.’

  ‘Will there be violence?’ said Cuthbert.

  ‘Count on it.’

  Dyam folded her arms and stared out of the window as the city awoke into life. The street beside the palace was quiet, with soldiers posted by the garden walls; and a few civilians were out, gathering by the corner of the road.

  ‘I wish I knew what was happening in the rest of the city,’ Nyane said. ‘The Kellach quarter or the peasant districts could be rioting, and we’d never hear it from here.’

  ‘We would see the smoke rising, though,’ Cuthbert said, ‘if it got serious.’

  ‘We’ll be out soon enough,’ Dyam muttered. She turned to Nyane. ‘Select half a dozen from the staff. Anyone with military experience; Kellach would be best.’

  Nyane nodded as Dyam’s gaze returned to the window. She walked to the table and glanced at the people in the room. Many were middle-aged, and a few advisors and clerks were elderly.

  ‘I’m looking for six volunteers,’ she said, keeping her voice low as the people by the table turned to her. ‘Preferably those who’ve been in the army, or who have had any training.’

  The staff glanced at each other, and a young Holdings man raised his arm. ‘I did two years with the cavalry, ma’am, before I was seconded to the palace.’

  Nyane smiled. ‘Excellent, thank you.’ She glanced down the table and saw two young Kellach women. They caught her eye and nodded. ‘Great, that’s three.’

  She walked down the room, scanning the people sitting or reclining on the floor.

  ‘I recognise you,’ she said to a Kellach man. ‘You used to be in the guard.’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘On your feet,’ she said. ‘Anyone else here ex-military?’

  A couple of others raised their hands from the floor, both Holdings.

  ‘Come with me,’ she said, and strode back to Dyam, her six volunteers behind her.

  ‘My first plan’s already dead,’ the herald muttered before Nyane could speak. ‘It’s past dawn. Our rescue’s not coming, so I guess we’ll have to do it ourselves.’

  She turned, her eyes widening as she saw the six volunteers standing behind Nyane.

  ‘Good work,’ she said. ‘Right, listen. Last night, before the soldiers from the New Town garrison locked the doors, they took us out in groups so we could go to the toilet. The average size of each group was about ten, and the lowest number taken was eight. That’s why I asked for six volunteers. If the soldiers repeat themselves this morning, then I want us eight to be the first group to go.’

  The Kellach man frowned. ‘How do you know they’re going do the same thing?’

  ‘I don’t, you fucking idiot,’ Dyam said. ‘I’m making guesses here. My first plan’s already been wrecked; this is my second plan. If it doesn’t work out then we’ll go on to my third plan. Got it?’

  The Kellach man smiled. ‘Got it, boss.’

  Dyam narrowed her eyes. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Calder,’ he said.

  ‘Why do I think I know you?’

  ‘I used to serve in the palace guard, boss. Used to see you walk past every day.’

  She nodded. ‘That’s right. You were in the unit for eight years if I remember correctly. Under Captain Buller.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘She was a hard bastard. Fought at Marchside. Best officer I ever had.’

  Dyam almost smiled. ‘Right, you’re in command of the volunteers. My sergeant. If this plan works, and we get out of this room as a group, then we wait until we reach the bathrooms. The priority is to get me and Lady Nyane out of the palace, preferably without being seen or causing an uproar.’ She turned to Nyane. ‘That’s when I need you to step in.’

  Nyane blinked, suppressing her tongue reflex. ‘Me? How?’

  ‘Think about it,’ Dyam said. ‘This house is made of stone.’

  Dyam had Calder keep the volunteers separated from the others in the dining-room, then sat to eat breakfast. Nyane joined her, sitting at the table as they picked at the leftovers they had been brought the night before. Plenty remained, though the bread tasted stale and the meat slices were curling at the corners. Dyam didn’t seem to mind, cramming food into her mouth. Nyane glanced at her. The herald was slim and short compared to other Kellach Brigdomin, and her pale, blonde features marked her out among her kinsfolk. She was almost ethereal, yet her intelligence and resolve were stronger than anyone else Nyane knew. The Rahain woman would follow the herald wherever she led.

  ‘Don’t bring the house down,’ Dyam muttered between mouthfuls. ‘A good shake will do.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘Then we make a break for the windows at the back of the palace. Get into the laundry-house and out through the north wall.’

  ‘There might be guards posted there.’

  ‘There might be, but I doubt it. The New Town garrison don’t know this house, not like the palace guard do.’

  ‘Is that where we’re headed?’ Nyane said, her voice a whisper. ‘To their barracks?’

  ‘Aye,’ Dyam murmured. ‘Let them know what’s happened. There’s no fucking way the army would side with Belinda over me. I haven’t spent my time befriending half of them over the last fifteen years for nothing.’ She stared at Nyane. ‘Belinda means some harm to the Empress, I know it. She wanted guardianship of her Majesty precisely so she can have the opportunity to strike. She knew we’d never let her near the Empress while she was in the palace. We have to stop her.’

  ‘I’m with you,’ Nyane said. ‘Whatever you need.’

  Dyam lowered her eyes. ‘We might have to kill some good, decent soldiers today, just for being in the wrong place.’

  ‘I know,’ Nyane said.

  ‘I just hope the Empress forgives me when she recovers.’

  Nyane nodded, and picked up an apple from a bowl. Behind her, someone thumped on the door. She turned. The door opened a crack.

  ‘Everyone stand back!’ a voice cried.

  The door opened more, revealing soldiers standing in the hallway, pointing crossbows at the staff in the dining-room.

  ‘Toilet break,’ one of the soldier said. ‘Form up in groups.’

  Nyane glanced at Calder, who was already leading the volunteers to the doors. Dyam stood, and she and Nyane walked over to join them.

  ‘Fancy meeting you here,’ Calder said, winking at Dyam.

  ‘Fancy,’ she said. ‘What’s your position in the palace anyway? I forgot to ask.’

  ‘Worked in Lord Olin’s office,’ he said, as they began to queue at the doors. All of the staff were on their feet, gathering while the soldiers kept their weapons trained on them.

  ‘You’re a lawyer?’ Dyam said.

  ‘Try not to sound so surprised, boss,’ Calder said. ‘I know I look all muscle, but…’

  He paused as the soldiers beckoned their group forwards.

  ‘You lot,’ said one. ‘Come with us. Same rules as last night. Do exactly as we say, and no one will get hurt.’

  Nyane walked with the others and the group left the room. Soldiers walked ahead and to the rear of them, crossbows nudging them onwards. The group kept their eyes down as they were led through the ground floor of the palace. Nyane noticed that few soldiers were present, most having departed to accompany Belinda and the Empress the previous evening. They had gone to the Great Fortress, she presumed, which would now be garrisoned. She wondered where they had placed the body of the wounded Empress.

  They reached the toilet block and the men and women went into separate bathrooms.

  ‘Take a piss,’ said Dyam to her, ‘then get ready. When I next glance at you, do it.’

  Nyane went into a cubicle and relieved herself, her heart pounding. Why was the herald depending on her when she had already failed so many times before? Her thoughts went to her father. She had been in steady communication with him unti
l the previous day, checking that he was all right in the troubled Rahain quarter. She had missed sending him a message, and she knew he would be worried about her. Had he heard of the coup? Was Dyam right – would the army and people side with her over Belinda? Her mind spun with the risks they were taking. She breathed, trying to calm herself. If the Empress was in danger, she needed to act; she needed to do her duty.

  She left the cubicle and washed her hands, then pressed her palm against the stone wall, sending her power through the grains of ancient rock that ran through the building. Sandstone, one of the easiest rocks to manipulate; given enough time she could make it crumble like the sand on the shores of the Inner Sea, or force it to take on new shapes and forms. What Dyam needed her to do was far more subtle – something that would shake the building but not bring it down onto their heads. The herald stood next to her at the wash basins, drying her hands.

  She nodded at Nyane.

  The Rahain mage closed her eyes and sent a powerful pulse of energy through the lower blocks of the main retaining walls of the palace, and the entire building seemed to heave and ripple. Chucks of ceiling plaster tumbled down and the bathroom windows burst open from the pressure, sending shards of glass exploding outwards. Calder raced towards and punched the soldier standing by the entrance to the bathroom then pulled the door closed as Dyam rushed to the buckled window frame. She threw a towel over the jagged glass and clambered through, disappearing into the external laundry-house.

  One of the volunteers grabbed Nyane’s arm. The house was still grinding and settling, with long cracks running down the walls and clouds of dust billowing through the air. Screams and shouts from elsewhere in the palace rang in her ears as she was helped through the window. She dropped a few feet, landing onto the stone floor of the laundry-house. Enormous wicker baskets were lined up by sinks, and they were nearly deafened by the hiss from the metal pipes as they leaked in a dozen places, spraying hot water out in jets and filling the air with steam. Dyam nodded at her and the others and they set off, racing through the low building. The rear of the laundry-house formed part of the outer wall that encircled the palace gardens. There was no door that lead onto the street, but there was a hatch for deliveries that locked from the inside. Calder took a long metal pole used for stirring the laundry and prised open the hatch with a heave from his big arms. The padlock twisted free and the hatch swung loose.

  Dyam rummaged through a laundry basket and pulled out two cloaks with hoods. She passed one to Nyane and pulled the other on, covering her long blonde hair, then crouched down and peered through the hatch.

  ‘There are a few civilians about,’ she said. ‘Going to need a diversion. Calder?’

  ‘No problem, boss,’ he said, kneeling next to her on the floor. ‘I’ll take one volunteer and run south towards the Senate House, and draw them off.’

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘I’ll go north then double back behind the High Court. If all goes well we’ll see you at the barracks.’

  Calder gestured to one of the Holdings volunteers. ‘You look like you can run. Follow me.’ He turned to Dyam. ‘Good luck, boss,’ he said, then squeezed through the hatch, the Holding man scrambling after him. There was a cry as they were seen, and the sound of boots running. Dyam waited until Calder had sprinted through the civilians and out of sight, then crept through the hatch, Nyane and the others following.

  ‘Walk normally,’ Dyam muttered to them as the began heading across the street. The civilians were all staring down the road where Calder had run, and Dyam ducked into an alleyway. She started to run and the others kept up, racing away from the palace. They passed the huge bulk of the High Court on their left, then halted in a small square on its far side.

  ‘We all here?’ Dyam said.

  ‘We got seen, ma’am,’ said one of the volunteers. ‘Some of the civilians turned as we were entering the alley.’

  ‘They raise the alarm?’

  ‘Don’t know, ma’am. Was too busy running.’

  Dyam nodded. ‘Come on, then. Soldiers will be out hunting for us any second.’

  They carried on, running through empty streets by the still-closed courts and lawyers’ offices towards the aristocratic district. They passed the old wall that had surrounded the Emperor’s great palace before its destruction by Keira the Fire Mage, the sounds of shouting and cries echoing faintly behind them. The streets became busier as the working day began, and the group slowed down, mingling with the civilians and keeping their heads lowered. In the shadows of the wall was a large three-storey stone building, with high, barred windows and soldiers guarding the entrance.

  Dyam walked straight over to them, Nyane at her shoulder.

  ‘I need to speak to the commander,’ she said to the guards.

  ‘Aye?’ said the armoured Kellach woman. ‘You got an appointment?’

  ‘I don’t need one,’ Dyam said, pulling back her hood.

  The guards saluted. ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ the first guard said. ‘Didn’t recognise you.’

  The soldiers moved to let them pass.

  ‘Do you remember Calder?’ Dyam said. ‘He was a guard here until a few years ago.’

  ‘Aye, ma’am.’

  ‘Let him in if he arrives,’ she said. ‘He may need some assistance. Bar the door to any from the New Town garrison that approach.’

  The soldier raised an eyebrow. ‘Aye, ma’am.’

  Nyane followed Dyam into the building. The volunteers remained in the hallway as the two women climbed the stairs to the commander’s office. Soldiers from the palace guard watched them as they walked through the corridors of the barracks. Dyam knocked on a door, then entered without waiting for a response.

  The commander looked up from his desk.

  ‘Good morning,’ said Dyam, sitting down. ‘There’s been a coup.’

  Nyane watched as the Imperial Herald was fitted out with armour. She stood with her arms out-stretched as a soldier strapped the steel breastplate round her, then attached the metal pieces to her legs and arms.

  ‘You should probably stay here,’ she said to Nyane. ‘Close combat’s probably not where the Chief of Intelligence should be positioned. I don’t want you getting killed.’

  ‘I could say the same thing about the Imperial Herald,’ Nyane said.

  ‘I need to be leading from the front,’ Dyam said. ‘The soldiers know me. They’ll follow me.’

  ‘You won’t be wearing a helmet, in other words,’ Nyane said.

  ‘Aye, that’s right.’

  Nyane sighed, then turned as the commander walked into the armoury.

  ‘Everything’s ready, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Messengers have been sent to the other city garrisons and the cavalry headquarters.’

  ‘Good,’ said Dyam. ‘We’ll be marching down the Royal Road to make sure everyone sees us, then we’ll seal off the Great Fortress.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. You should know that a great crowd of folk have gathered outside the barracks.’

  Dyam raised an eyebrow. ‘Friendly?’

  The commander nodded. ‘They’re on our side, ma’am. Last night’s procession has stirred the people up. As I told you before, there were riots throughout the night spreading from the Kellach quarter through to the Old Town on this side of the river, and in the new peasant districts on the opposite bank. Many are suspicious of the way Lady Belinda has amassed so much power and influence in such a short time. Some even believe that her Majesty is already dead, or is being taken to the Great Fortress in order to be killed.’

  ‘That is my belief also,’ said Dyam, ‘and what we must prevent at all costs.’

  Her assistant stepped away and Dyam stood, fully armoured excepting her bare head.

  ‘If you would marshal the guard, Commander,’ she said. ‘I need a moment with Lady Nyane.’

  The commander bowed, and everyone left the chamber. Dyam gazed down at Nyane.

  ‘If it all goes wrong today,’ she said to the Rahain woman, ‘then you’re in charge.’
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  ‘If it all goes wrong then Belinda will have won,’ said Nyane.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Dyam said. ‘There is still Karalyn.’

  ‘Who was supposed to appear at dawn,’ Nyane said.

  Dyam nodded. ‘There is always revenge. If harm comes to the Empress then Belinda must die.’

  ‘I want to come with you.’

  ‘Come as far as the Old Town walls,’ the herald said, ‘but no further.’

  Nyane smiled. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  They left the chamber and walked together to the rear of the building, where a mustering yard was laid out under the shadows of the old palace wall. Soldiers of the guard were formed up, their burnished armour glinting in the dim light. All had shields, crossbows and swords, and cheered as they saw Dyam approach.

  She raised a hand for silence.

  ‘The Empress is in grave peril,’ she said to them. ‘The plotters who have taken her think they are safely hidden inside the Great Fortress. We will show them that nowhere is safe from those loyal to her Majesty. Spare any who surrender, our job is not to slaughter those who may have unwittingly been fooled into helping Lady Belinda, but show no mercy to any who oppose us. Garrisons from the Old Town and peasant districts will be waiting for us – together we shall assemble before the walls of the Great Fortress.’ She lifted her sword high into the air. ‘For the Empress!’

  ‘For the Empress!’ the soldiers thundered back at her.

  The gates at the rear of the yard were opened, and the soldiers began to march out, their commander, Dyam and Nyane at their head. A great roar from the crowds of civilians rose up. They were crammed into the street in large numbers, cheering as they caught sight of Dyam leading the soldiers. They marched to the junction with the Royal Road and turned towards the Old Town. Flowers were thrown onto the ground in front of them by the crowd. Nyane glanced up. In the distance she could see the top of the Great Fortress, towering over the centre of the city.

  ‘They’ll be watching this from up there,’ she said to the herald as they marched.

  ‘I fucking hope so,’ she laughed back.

  Officers from the Old Town garrison were standing by the gates leading to that part of the city. They saluted Dyam as the soldiers from the palace guard approached.