by David Weber
Even in Siddarmark the degree of input the lord protector’s Council of Manufactories enjoyed was a distinct departure from previous practice, but the Siddarmarkian social matrix had made it easier for him to create it. And the fact that, in yet another similarity with both Old Charis and Chisholm, the Republic of Siddarmark Army had traditionally drawn the majority of its officer corps from the middle class helped enormously.
Stohnar had selected Tymahn Qwentyn, head of the House of Qwentyn, Siddarmark’s great banking dynasty, to head his council. The Qwentyn banking empire had been brutally wounded by the Sword of Schueler and the collapse of traditional trade patterns. Tymahn had to be even better aware of that than Merlin was, yet he’d unhesitatingly placed his contacts, his connections, and his personal wealth at the Republic’s service. It was quite possible he’d ruined himself and his family in the process, although no one would have guessed it from his expression or manner.
On the other hand, he didn’t know—yet—that Ehdwyrd Howsmyn was about to make a major investment in the House of Qwentyn. That investment made good, hard business sense, and Qwentyn’s contacts would open countless doors in the Republic for Howsmyn both during and after the present war. But it was more than that, as well—a way for the Charisian Empire to repay a portion of its debt to the one Mainland realm with the courage and fortitude to stand beside it in the teeth of the Inquisition itself.
The other senior members of the Council of Manufactories present were Zhak Hahraimahn, Erayk Ahdyms, Bahrtalam Edwyrds … and Aivah Pahrsahn.
The white-haired, rather frail-looking Hahraimahn was an old friend of Henrai Maidyn’s. He was also the ironmaster to whom the chancellor and the lord protector had turned for the limited number of rifles they’d dared to order before the Sword of Schueler. He’d also been equally clandestinely experimenting with the new model artillery, in the process of which he’d acquired a new business partner in the form of Aivah Pahrsahn. The combination of her investments in Hahraimahn’s foundry, in Siddarmarkian mining properties in Glacierheart and Mountaincross, and in two of Siddar City’s four major shipyards went far towards explaining her membership on the council, although her role as the Allies’ spymistress had a little something to do with it, as well.
Erayk Ahdyms was a junior partner of Hahraimahn’s. At fifty-six, he was sixteen years younger than his widowed associate, with sandy brown hair, gray eyes, and broad shoulders. A fervent Reformist, he was quick-witted and quick moving. In many ways, he reminded Merlin of a somewhat older Ehdwyrd Howsmyn, and he showed a fierce interest in acquiring the latest Charisian industrial techniques. Not just because he recognized how badly the Republic’s Army needed those capabilities, either. No, he was looking forward to the end of the war, as well, and he clearly wanted to build a robust Siddarmarkian industrial base to compete with Charisian supremacy. He was being rather discreet about it, and Merlin wondered how he would react if he discovered Cayleb and Sharleyan Ahrmahk were simply delighted by the notion of Mainland competition.
Within reason, of course.
A man as smart as Ahdyms would almost certainly figure that out in the end, although it was unlikely he’d realize what actually motivated his Charisian allies’ attitude. Despite the way in which Safehold’s economy had grown in size and sophistication over the last century and a half, many of its thinkers remained firmly mired in the concepts of what had been called “mercantilism” on Old Earth. It wasn’t exactly the same sort of mercantilism, given the huge differences in the population patterns and the fact that every enclave on Safehold had begun with exactly the same technology base. The basic ideas of protectionism and the creation of fixed trading relationships closed to outside competition had been part of the Safeholdian matrix for a very long time, however. That was, in fact, the basis for a great deal of the pre-Jihad resentment of Charis’ industrial and maritime power. The notion that an empire whose dominance in those areas bade fair to become absolute might actually favor free trade and competitive commerce from an economic perspective would take some getting used to. The fact that the entire purpose of the present war was to subvert the technological stasis created by the Church of God Awaiting and that spreading the new technologies as widely as possible was the best way to do that would remain Charis’ little secret for as long as possible … hopefully even from a smart cookie like Ahdyms.
For the moment, any such suspicion was the furthest thing from Ahdyms’ mind as he and Hahraimahn sat on either side of Brygham Cartyr, Ehdwyrd Howsmyn’s envoy to the Council of Manufactories. Cartyr and his support staff had arrived only last five-day, bringing with them crate loads of technical drawings, manuals, and working models. Cartyr himself was a stocky, powerfully built man in his early forties, with typical Charisian coloring and the scarred hands of a fatherless boy who’d begun as a sweeper in one of Rhaiyan Mychail’s manufactories when he was barely ten years old. In many ways, he and Howsmyn had both been mentored by Mychail, and it was no accident he’d been chosen for his present position, although the thought of how a Desnairian—or even a Dohlaran—might have reacted to taking instruction from a mongrel whose speech still bore an echo of his guttersnipe origins beggared the imagination. In Siddarmark, however, the reaction had been quite different, and Qwentyn, Ahdyms, and Hahraimahn couldn’t’ve cared less how he spoke.
And then there was Bahrtalam Edwyrds, possibly the most interesting member of the council. About midway between Ahdyms and Hahraimahn in age, Edwyrds was the head of the Gunmakers Guild in Old Province. That made him, effectively, the senior member of the guild in the entire Republic, and he was the man Hahraimahn had tapped to assemble the gunmakers who’d constructed the rifles Stohnar (and Aivah Pahrsahn) had ordered from him.
He was also the one man at that table whose entire professional life was about to be destroyed by the changes the Council of Manufactories was busy midwifing.
The innovations Charis had already introduced into its own industrial sector, much less the ones Howsmyn was even now putting into effect, made that as inevitable as the rising of the sun. The days of highly paid, skilled artisans assembling firearms—or anything else—one handmade piece at a time were numbered and dwindling quickly, and Edwyrds knew it. Yet even though his Reformism was less fervent than Ahdyms’, Bahrtalam Edwyrds was a fierce Siddarmarkian patriot, loyal to his lord protector and his constitution, with boundless contempt for the traitors who’d betrayed both. And on top of that, he was smart—smart enough to see the changes coming and recognize that the guilds would have no choice but to adapt. Indeed, to disappear. Trying to fight those changes would be as fatal as trying to swim across North Bedard Bay. So like a skilled seaman in the face of the tempest, Bahrtalam Edwyrds would ride the winds of revolution and innovation and encourage his fellow guildsmen to do the same. The new manufactories would require large numbers of experienced supervisors, and that was exactly the role into which Edwyrds meant to slot as many members of his guild as could see the writing on the wall.
Some of them—too many, really, for Merlin’s peace of mind—were apparently blind to that writing, and he didn’t like to think about what was going to happen to them and to their families when the future came calling. Nor did he like to think about what might happen if they and others of like mind dug in their heels and tried to resist that future. At least some of them were going to, and when that was coupled with the inevitable disruptions of a truly industrialized economy, the consequences would be ugly.
And maybe not just here in the Republic, either, he thought grimly. There’s always those idiots in Chisholm to worry about, too!
But no one at this meeting questioned the necessity of embracing the new techniques as rapidly as possible, just as every one of them understood how dependent the Republic’s military options—and fate—were on the efforts of the Council of Manufactories and their Charisian allies. The total prewar output of every gunsmith in Siddarmark would have sufficed to build just over four thousand rifles per month. Hahraimahn and Edwyrd
s had found ways to significantly improve production rates in Old Province, but even there, in the Republic’s most populous single province—and even with the influx of refugees, which had included many of the surviving gunsmiths from provinces which had gone over to the Temple Loyalists—production was barely a thousand per month. They could probably increase that to as much as fifteen hundred, but it wasn’t going much higher as long as the Republic retained the Gunmakers Guild’s traditional processes. Worse, the numbers were far lower for the other loyal provinces, not simply on an absolute basis but in proportion to their population, because Hahraimahn and Edwyrds’ arrangements had yet to be duplicated outside Old Province. At the moment, the entire Republic was doing well to produce forty-eight hundred rifles per month. That meant the eighty thousand Charisian muzzle-loading rifles handed over to Daryus Parkair’s regiments as the Charisian Expeditionary Force re-equipped with Mahndrayns represented seventeen months—almost two Safeholdian years—of the Republic’s current production … and eighteen of the new Siddarmarkian rifle brigades.
So, yes, Greyghor Stohnar and his generals knew exactly how important the Council of Manufactories’ input into military decisions had become.
“I’m thinking we’ll be in a fair way to making that downpayment for you, Your Majesty,” Symkyn said. The general took a long pull from his beer and thumped the stein back down on the tabletop. “Mind you, I’d be a mite happier if His Grace had waited until we were actually here before setting off for Fort Tairys, but he’s like a cat-lizard. Fling him any which way you like, he’s a way of landing on his feet. Truth to tell, he and Baron Green Valley are a lot alike that way. And I do like what His Grace has in mind for those bastards in the South March.”
“I can’t argue with you there, General,” Maidyn said, but his expression was troubled, and he snorted when Stohnar quirked an eyebrow at him.
“I agree that Duke Eastshare has his eye on the prize, My Lord. And if he can actually pull it off, those motherless Desnairians are going to think they’re back in the middle of our last war! I just find it difficult to convince myself that even Desnairians are going to let us get away with it.”
“That’s because you’ve been watching the Army of God and the Dohlarans, not the Desnairians, My Lord,” Merlin said. “For all their other flaws, the Dohlarans have at least some appreciation for the potential of amphibious operations, and Kaitswyrth tried hard to scout Duke Eastshare’s position on the Daivyn before he ultimately attacked. He didn’t manage it, but he tried, and everything we’ve seen out of Wyrshym indicates he understands the need for aggressive scouting. And, even more important, both of them actually try to confirm the reports they get from Temple Loyalist sources.
“Desnair really doesn’t have any concept of amphibious operations, and we all know how poor Desnairian logistics have traditionally been. The fact that the Church is helping manage their supply arrangements this time doesn’t seem to have changed their internal grasp of the problem’s realities, and I think they persist in viewing galleons and blue water transport as simply barges which may be a bit larger than most of the ones they’re used to. And as far as figuring out what Duke Eastshare is up to, Duke Harless doesn’t have any idea how good our spies and scouts are. Or, rather, of how bad his are in comparison to ours.”
“The seijin’s right, Henrai,” Parkair put in. “For all the Desnairians’ love affair with horses, they’ve never understood the function of scouts the way we have, and there’s no indication they’ve fixed that problem this time around, either.” He shook his head. “They’ve got a fair grasp of how to use cavalry screens to hide what they’re doing, but they’ve never made proper use of their light horse to figure out what we’re doing. They ought to have regiments out on sweeps—preferably as much as a hundred miles in every direction—and according to our reports, they’re barely twenty miles out. Beyond that, they seem to be relying on reports from Temple Loyalists, and as Aivah’s demonstrated”—he nodded courteously in Madam Pahrsahn’s direction—“they don’t seem to grasp that not all of those Temple Loyalists are quite as loyal to the Temple as they profess.”
“And unlike Wyrshym, at least,” Aivah put in, “Harless puts very little effort into confirming or disproving those ‘Temple Loyalists’ ’ veracity.” She smiled whimsically. “As nearly as we can tell, his measure of reliability is very simple. If the reports confirm what he already thinks, they must obviously be accurate, whereas if they don’t—”
She shrugged eloquently, and several of the others chuckled appreciatively.
“Even better,” Cayleb’s smile was far more wicked than Aivah’s, “where the southern jaw’s concerned, the best cavalry screen in the world won’t help them.”
“All very well for you, Your Majesty,” Symkyn said. “You’re not going to have to explain to my lads why so many of them are turning around, cat-lizard-in-pan, to go straight back aboard those ships!”
“I would, of course, General,” Cayleb assured him, “except for the need to maintain operational secrecy. Given that paramount consideration, I don’t see how we could possibly allow anyone but you yourself to break that—I mean, to give them that news.”
His general gave him a somewhat skeptical look, and Stohnar hastily raised a wineglass to conceal something closer to a grin than a smile.
“Given the number of Temple Loyalists here in the capital, there’s no way to prevent Kaitswyrth and Wyrshym, at least, from learning that General Symkyn’s arrived,” Aivah said. “I’m sure there are messenger wyverns headed for their headquarters right this minute. I think it may be possible to prevent them from realizing that 4th Brigade’s reembarked, though.”
Merlin gazed at her thoughtfully. Thanks to Owl’s SNARCs, he knew she was correct about those messenger wyverns, and a part of him was tempted yet again to steer her counterintelligence teams to the people sending them. In fact, he and Nahrmahn had done precisely that where the more effective and efficient spies were concerned. The ones who were left provided too much information to the Army of God’s field commanders for his peace of mind, but much of their information was wrong or, even better, grossly exaggerated. Not only that, but duplicating the iron curtain he and Bynzhamyn Raice had drawn around Old Charis for King Haarahld would have been impossible in Siddarmark. There were simply too many ways for spies and their messengers to slip in and out of cities when they didn’t need boats to report back to their masters.
Given that it wasn’t feasible to shut them down completely, he agreed wholeheartedly with Aivah’s ploys to manipulate the information available to them. Dummy encampments, wooden cannon, false shipping orders, covered “ammunition barges” loaded with rock ballast, and infantry regiments which marched west in the morning, then circled around to their starting points to march past again the next day, all helped to convince Kaitswyrth and Wyrshym that the forces facing them in Westmarch and the Sylmahn Gap were being heavily reinforced when, in fact, the reverse was true.
Meanwhile, she and Parkair had established a tight security cordon around the major encampment on East Point on the far side of Unity Strait—the channel connecting Bedard Bay to North Bedard Bay—from the city. Anything they really wanted to keep out of the Temple Loyalist spies’ sight was normally tucked away at East Point, and the Charisian 4th Infantry Brigade could easily be shifted there as part of the capital’s garrison.
“You’re thinking about lightering them back out aboard ship from East Point in the middle of the night, aren’t you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking, Seijin Merlin.” She smiled. “And I’m also thinking it would be very helpful if Brigadier Mathysyn could leave a few of his men behind. Just enough to be visible here in the city in their uniforms on a semi-regular basis, you understand.”
“I’ve always admired a cunning mind, Madam Pahrsahn,” Symkyn said with an answering smile. “And there’s always a few sick or injured in a force this size. I imagine the Brigadier and I shouldn’t find it so very difficul
t to come up with a score or so of warm bodies.” His smile grew a bit broader. “For that matter, we’ve quite a few spare uniforms, and they do say it’s the clothes as make the man, don’t they?”
“I do believe I’ve heard that, General,” she agreed, and raised her glass to him.
Merlin joined the chuckle that answered the exchange. He doubted Aivah’s subterfuge would hold up indefinitely, but it was likely to work long enough to at least thoroughly confuse anyone on the other side.
He turned his head to gaze at the huge map hanging on one of the conference chamber’s walls. The flag-headed pins showed the latest information on all of their own forces and most of the enemy’s. At the moment, there was one very large Charisian flag stuck into the dot representing Siddar City, but that was going to be changing.
The first echelon of the Expeditionary Force had consisted of the 1st Infantry Division and half of the 2nd Infantry Division, which had been split into two reinforced brigades under Eastshare and Green Valley. Symkyn’s second echelon was considerably larger—three more infantry brigades (the rest of the 2nd Division and the entire 3rd Division) plus the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Mounted Brigades—plus the remainder of the entire Expeditionary Force’s artillery, engineering, and medical trains.
