A Shout for the Dead (100 page)

Ossacer's voice came from his left. It was thick from where he had been crying quietly.

'That isn't a deduction requiring any ability,' replied Arducius.
‘I
am always awake. As are you.'

‘I
could have saved her, you know,' said Ossacer.

'No, you couldn't, Ossie. We've been through this a thousand times. Maybe if you were undamaged you could have slowed what was travelling through her. But you sampled the sickness. You saw how quickly it ravaged her. Nothing could have prevented her death.'

'But I did nothing,' said Ossacer.

'Rubbish. You saved us so we could fight Gorian. What greater act could you have done? It was I who did nothing. Just broke my bones when we could least afford it.'

From the darkness came a dry chuckle.

'Listen to us. Fighting over who did the least. What are we both trying you avoid, do you think?' inevitability,' said Arducius. is that what it is?'

'How do you twine the threads of a life so totn? Where trust is lost so completely that the thought of forgiveness makes you nauseous. Roots will have to regrow. The flower must bloom afresh.'

'Not just us, though. The Order too,' said Ossacer.

'Oh yes. The damage done to the Order is incalculable. But to the Ascendancy it is surely irreversible.'

'Eternally?'

‘I
don't know, Ossie. But in our lifetimes I cannot see any hope, can you?'

'Mirron didn't die so we would run away.' Ossacer's voice was a whisper.

At the mention of Mirron's name, the tears burst from Arducius's eyes, the dam of his emotions breached so effortlessly. They said nothing more while the sniffs and sobs held sway, each trying to regain enough control to begin again. Eventually, Arducius had to speak though he was so raw that it hurt his throat.

‘I
miss her so badly,' he said.

'Me, too.'

'But she wouldn't want to leave us prey to persecution and hate.'

'So what will we do?' asked Ossacer and at once he was the scared teenager Arducius had always protected.

‘I
don't think we have a choice. You've seen the way Roberto looks at Kessian. You know what he's thinking and what he fears more than any of us.'

'Poor boy,' said Ossacer. 'The only innocent one on board and orphaned so young. I'm glad Paul is taking care of him.'

'But he won't forever. Paul Jhered belongs to the Advocacy, not the Ascendancy.'

The
Hark's Arrow
moved easily through calm waters, a natural wind at her stern. The warm winds were blowing down from the great northern deserts. The heralds of solastro. The sky was clear. Stars sparkled. Dawn was coming, casting the land below the eastern horizon into the deepest dark of night.

Roberto stared at the mountain tops and the beacon towers that marched the length and breadth of the land. His land. The fires were bright against the night and the smoke billowed heavenwards. Black smoke. The only feature that would not resolve to a lighter shade when dawn kissed Estorea once more.

He had kept his grief private. Jhered too. But the two of them had stood together a great deal on this dreadful journey home. And in those times he had been thankful like never before for the Exchequer's huge strength of character and will for the Conquord to survive and prosper.

They had found time to laugh and to reminisce. But in the quiet of his cabin and now out here alone for once, Roberto was left to regret the fact that Jhered had known his mother much better than had her own son.

Soldier, and now diplomat. So keen to be away from the cosseted centre of power and now, how little he understood of the art of rule. And how he would need his friends about him.

Advocate.

Him. Roberto Del Aglios. And after him, no succession. Not yet.

Roberto stared over the rail into the dark Estorean coastal waters. The sail was full behind him and the deck crew quiet. He could see the flecks of foam thrown from the bow and hear the water ripple away behind. It was mesmerising.

'I've watched Ascendants stare into the deeps contemplating jumping but was never worried. But you, Roberto, you
can
drown.'

'No need for concern, Paul. Just searching for inspiration.' Roberto raised his head and looked round at Jhered. 'And wishing this barrel would travel a little faster.'

Jhered joined him at the rail. He was unshaven and bore the same marks of tiredness they all shared. Jhered was wearing trail clothes but not his cloak. Mirron's body was wrapped in that before being sealed in a long crate in the hold. Ossacer's ministrations ensured that the odours of decay were kept at bay.

'This barrel is the fastest trireme the Conquord possesses,' said Jhered. 'And it could go faster.'

'No,' said Roberto,
‘I
will not have a devil wind rush me to my mother's grave.'

'And yet you are desperate to arrive,' said Jhered.

Roberto dropped his chin to his chest and leant hard on the rail.

'Yes, I am. But scared of what I might find and what I might see.'

'Herine picked her closest friends well,' said Jhered. 'When crises occur, that inner group you hate so much are discarded and those she knows can save her Conquord are called upon. Things were already ugly when I left but Vasselis, Gesteris and Kastenas were with her. Your sister too. They were preparing for invasion.'

'So how can she be dead when evidence tells us others in power are not? She was always so strong. So
...
healthy. Vital. I swear, Paul, if she felt the touch of the walking dead, I will execute the whole Ascendancy.'

Jhered said nothing. They'd been through this before. No agreement, only understanding and sympathy.

'The fact is, I'm terrified by the thought of what we'll find when we row into the harbour. We have no idea who is alive and who is dead. We don't know where anyone is and they have no idea that you, I and Davarov survived.'

'The plague of the dead was vast,' said Jhered. 'Expect the worst.'

Roberto's chest constricted further. 'I do.'

'But at least we know some form of government is resident on the hill. The black smoke tells us as much.'

Roberto nodded, feeling a little relief at last.

'And they did respond to the victory flag we flew from the Gaws beacon,' he said.

'I'm just sorry I had no birds to send word of your survival, my Advocate,' said Jhered.

'And we'll have none of that, Exchequer Jhered. Not if you are to stand with me in the basilica.'

'There must always be acknowledgement of the chain of command.'

Roberto smiled at last. 'You never change, do you?'

'No.'

Roberto looked out towards the distant harbour of Estorr. 'I wonder how many still live?'

'Two days and we will know.'

At least they found time to decorate the harbour. Flags flew. Flowers adorned every hanging and nestling space. Fresh paint gleamed. The horns sounded the arrival of the Advocate. Yet the dockside was hardly straining at its polished seams. And there was reserve to the fanfares and cheers. Hardly a surprise. Most of them wouldn't know whether to cheer or to cry. At least there was genuine relief at Roberto's arrival.

But the air still stank of ash and the surface of the water both within and without the harbour was covered in a film of oil and dust. All the paint in the world couldn't disguise the damage the city had suffered. Jhered had warned Roberto what to expect but his information was out of date. Estorr had been invaded and she had been badly hurt.

The
Mark's Arrow
rowed sedately to her berth. Roberto, Jhered and Davarov stood at the prow. Roberto searched the faces and figures of the welcome party and at last a little joy entered his heart. There, standing beside Arvan Vasselis, was Tuline.

'The Omniscient still knows mercy,' he breathed.

Barely had the gang plank struck the dockside than Roberto was pounding down it. Protocol could burn. He ignored everyone else, enveloping his sister in an embrace that breached the floodgates of his relief and his grief.

Nothing and no one else existed for Roberto in those moments when Tuline shuddered against him, grasping him as if to let go was to lose him forever.

'I will never leave you alone,' he said. 'Just you and me now, Tuline.'

Roberto felt Tuline freeze in his arms and he cursed himself for the idiot he surely was. Tuline looked into his eyes. 'Where's Adranis?'

'Oh, Tuline, Tuline, we have lost so much.'

Chapter Sixty-Nine

859th cycle of God, 5th day of
Solasrise

'This crown does not sit easily on my head,' said Roberto. 'And I should not have had to bear it for many years yet.'

Roberto Del Aglios, Advocate of the Estorean Conquord, brushed a fallen strand of ivy from the bust of his mother where it stood in the formal palace gardens. It had been her favourite place and, following his commissioning of the piece on his return to Estorr, Roberto had never considered another place for it. He couldn't bear the walk to the Principal House to visit her grave. This was the best he could do for the moment.

'And yet it fits you just as it did Herine. Perfectly.'

Roberto turned. He brushed down his formal toga and walked the marble path back to the colonnaded walkway, his sandals slapping on the polished stone.

'Hello, Paul.'

'Got some reports for you,' he said, waving a leather satchel.

'Do I want to hear them?' Roberto gestured they walked up to the state room. He enjoyed the view. Estorr's slow but beautiful rebirth.

'Well, you be the judge, but things are going according to plan. Elise Kastenas has confirmed that the Neratharn site is clean of bodies. Marcus Gesteris is heading into Tsard to take back Khuran's ashes. He's under Sirranean guard so he ought to be safe enough. Similarly, the Gosland border is reformed. The fort is clean. We've heard nothing from Gestern yet and we should not expect good news. That country was almost wiped clean. Katrin Mardov was surely a victim. You need to visit there. The Gatherers are going in mid-solasfall. Why don't we make it an Advocacy tour as well?'

Roberto shrugged. 'If you think I should.'

'Come on Roberto, this is you now. It's what you do.'

'Excuse me if I don't love it all right away, eh?'

'Fifty-three days and counting since Neratharn and the earth wave, my Advocate. Time moves on.'

Roberto held up his hands.
‘I
know, I know. And don't call me that. You know my name. I don't need you to be formal with me of all people. Even caught Davarov at it the other day.'

'He should be in Atreska,' said Jhered.

'He knows. But I'm not forcing anyone who survived Neratharn to do anything they don't want to do.' 'Except
...'

'No, no. Their decision, Paul. I didn't say a word.'

'You didn't have to. Your expressions can be magnificently eloquent. And they knew any other decision would leave your position untenable with the citizenry and the Senate.'

'And praise the mystique of Sirrane that means both citizen and senator agree with what we're doing.'

The two men walked to the balcony. Estorr was resplendent. The sun was hot, the fields swelled with crops to the west and every tile glared red, every wall shone white. It was a fitting epitaph for his mother. The city, her city, lived on. Though it was quiet. More than fifteen thousand soldiers and citizens had perished in the brief invasion of the dead. And the hole they left was reflected in the hollowness of Estorr's mood. It would be a long time recovering, if it ever truly did.

Down in the courtyard, a line of carriages waited. Children were playing tag around the fountain. Roberto smiled.

'Just an adventure for them, isn't it?'

'For now. And only for some of them. The teenagers are none too happy, I can assure you. And it's one big voyage they all face. The excitement will soon wear off.'

'Is he here?'

'Waiting in the ante-room,' said Jhered. 'Shall I?' '
Please.'

Jhered strode over to the door to the ante-room and opened it. Arducius walked in. He looked whole and healthy though there was a tint to his eyes that told he would never forget, never quite shake the guilt he had assumed.