A Shout for the Dead (20 page)

'It's all right, General,' he said, feeling his own mood soften as he spoke. 'The Karku speak their minds. Seldom is it a personal slur. And of course, in this instance, he is right.'

'But we must see them,' said Mirron, quiet until now. 'We must face them. After all, that's much of why I'm here, isn't it? To stop them. Me.'

The fire roared its energy. Men fell silent.

The entourage of Marcus Gesteris swept in under the Victory Gates and rattled to a stop around the grand fountain and its statue of horses rampant to each principal point of the compass. Herine watched them from the top step of the basilica. There was a sharp taste in her mouth and a disquiet in her mind. She'd had notice of his arrival. Good news dwarfed by potential bad.

'Bring him straight in and clear the public and reserved seating. This is now a closed session,' she said to an aide.

'My Advocate.'

Herine turned to the sound of snapped fingers and terse orders. Guards came to attention. Before she'd reached the uncomfortable throne where she heard petitions from her citizens, the cavernous basilica was emptying. She sat and watched grumbling citizens and haughty members of the Order of Omniscience disperse. It was almost a shame. She'd had a long list of complaints concerning Order activity and Ascendant meddling to deal with. Both Arducius and Felice Koroyan had agreed to be present. Still, another day
...

Herine knew she should probably have conducted this meeting in private chambers and returned later to the business of the day but it never hurt to remind people who was in charge.

'Sit, Senator Gesteris,' said Herine when the one-eyed hero of the Conquord, weary from his voyage, approached. 'The Speaker of the Earth has warmed a place for you. And no doubt one of my aides is already organising some sustenance.'

Gesteris marched to the dais and slapped his right arm into his chest.

'My arm and heart are yours, my Advocate,' he said.

Dust still clung to his boots and cloak though his ceremonial armour was freshly polished and caught the light that washed through the basilica between the columns.

'I do apologise for my appearance,' he continued. 'I have not had the opportunity to change since disembarking.'

'On the contrary, it does you credit.' Herine smiled. 'And I think we can dispense with formalities, you and I. Sit down, Marcus.'

Gesteris sat and blew out his cheeks. 'Thank you, Herine. A good journey but a lengthy one. And we set a fast pace.' 'And how is my son?'

'As brilliant and determined as ever. He'll make a fine Advocate, one day.'

'I hope he still has a Conquord worth the name to govern.' Herine felt a welcome warmth at Gesteris's words. 'I understand not all your news is to our advantage. Worrying messages arrived in advance of you too. I would hear the worst now.'

'Had it not been for Roberto's diplomatic powers—'

'And your genius with numbers no doubt.'

Gesteris inclined his head, '—we would not even know as much as we do now. The Sirraneans have alerted us to a Tsardon force. It's heading due west tracking the southern border of Sirrane. Bound for Gosland.'

'Big enough to hurt us?' Herine's words came out but the blood rushing in her head meant she could barely hear them herself.

'Roberto is already ascertaining their purpose and he'll report as soon as he can. Gosland will be warned well in advance of any invasion.'

'That isn't quite what I asked, was it, Marcus?'

'No,' admitted Gesteris. 'But it is all I have. The Sirraneans weren't forthcoming with the size of the force but they were certain it was threat enough to tell us about it. They know the thinness of our border defence after all.'

'But an incursive force is a long way from one that might topple a country. There's something you're not telling me.'

Gesteris shrugged. 'Intangibles really. I didn't wait for concrete news on numbers. Roberto will supply those as fast as he can. But the manner of the Sirraneans concerned us both. We've got to know them as well as any man alive these past cycles and one thing we've learned is that they demonstrate no urgency or worry about anything unless it is utterly critical. This Tsardon army worried them, no doubt of it.

'That's why Roberto is asking for the Conquord to mobilise. It's why he is going to assume command of the defence at Gosland and finally why I have brought back chemicals for Orin and Rovan to examine. They're a weapon. A powerful one.'

Herine cleared her throat, feeling uncomfortable. 'I cannot mobilise the Conquord, such as it is, based on supposition and a vague understanding of Sirranean emotions. The Senate will never agree. You know that, Marcus. What more can you give me?'

Gesteris chuckled and pulled a letter from a pocket inside his cloak.

'If there's one thing your son knows better than anything else, it is you, Herine. He said this is how you would react. He said you would be right to do so.'

'But you thought you'd test me anyway,' said Herine sharply. 'Clever man, my son.'

Gesteris blushed. 'I am not attempting to test you or waste your time, my Advocate. But there is a point to be made. We have little information on this Tsardon force but the information we have is exactly why we've been striving all these years to gain an alliance with Sirrane. Perhaps there is no threat. But even as a political and diplomatic gesture, a mobilisation, even a limited one, will send the right message to Sirrane and tell the citizens that our allies can really help us.'

'Now that I can understand,' said Herine. 'But there's still a nagging problem, isn't there? Why is it that my son is so worried that he feels he must take charge of the Gosland defences from some very capable soldiers? And so worried that he sends you back with some as yet unnamed powders for my scientists. Why? He's an Ambassador of the Conquord now. He hasn't picked up a sword for a decade.'

'But he always carries it with him. He carries all the trappings of his campaigning past with him.'

Gesteris proffered the letter. Herine waved it away and leaned back in her chair, fighting for a comfortable position.

'Read it for me. I need to think.'

'Of course.' Gesteris nodded and broke the seal on the paper. He unfolded a sheet watermarked with the Del Aglios crest and, Herine could also see, written in Roberto's scrawling hand. '"My dear Mother. If I'm right, poor Marcus has met with your most blank of expressions. And Marcus, I know you are reading this. Whatever my mother says, this is because she has never been able to read my writing and it makes her nervous—"'

Herine laughed out loud and clapped her hands together. Gesteris joined her and she felt the release of a tension she hadn't realised was clogging the atmosphere. She wagged her finger.

'One day, he will out-clever himself. I just hope I'm there to see it.'

'Shall I go on?'

'Please.'

'"I am not going to expound theories for my beliefs. I am not going to try and twist the facts into something they are not. All I am going to do is call upon your faith in me and in my feelings as a son, a man and a soldier. I fought the Tsardon for years. I examined their tactics and their motives as closely as any man. They do nothing merely for show. If they are marching towards Gosland it is for one reason only. And if the Sirraneans believe they have sent an invasion force, I believe it too.

'"Furthermore, if they are advancing on Gosland, they will be doing the same further south. It is their way to attack on multiple fronts. Remember what happened in the wars of a decade ago. They are quick, determined and ferocious. They do not risk themselves unless they believe they can win. We were lucky last time. We will not be so again unless we act now. Mobilise, Mother, I urge you. Bring the legions to ready. Move them to the pressure points that we outlined in the aftermath of war. And look to the south. Look to Atreska and Gestern too. Delay and we will fall. Your son, Roberto.'"

Gesteris looked up. He again proffered the letter and this time, Herine took it and stared long and hard at the words. Roberto might have been clever and foreseen everything that had happened in the basilica so far but she had not foreseen this. She had expected numbers and speeds and a timetable. She had expected a clinical assessment. But not this. This plea laced with raw passion.

Herine licked her lips and swallowed the lump in her throat. She could envision him as he wrote it. Her son, Roberto, one of the three citizens hailed as a saviour of the Conquord. Along with Gesteris and Jhered, the men the people loved above all others. Above their Advocate, certainly.

'And yet this does not give me the means to act,' she said.

'Herine?'

Herine shook her head. 'Sorry, Marcus, thinking out loud. I believe him. As God-surrounds-us-all, what else can I do but believe him? But these words are not enough. He sees much. Does he not see that?'

'Of course he does,' said Gesteris gently. 'Just as he, you and I understand the system and the powers for circumventing it.'

'Marcus, I—'

'Please, Herine. I know this appears difficult but in reality, I do not believe it to be so. He is not asking you to go to the Senate with this letter. He is asking you to trust his instinct. Trust his gut and experience. I do.'

'I know what he's asking. And I can see the belief in you. God-embrace-me, it burns in you like a forge. But I know the state of our treasury and I have some information on the feelings of the citizenry. A mobilisation will do two things. It will bankrupt the exchequer and it will poison the minds of the people against the Advocacy.'

'And it will save the Conquord,' said Gesteris.

'Will it?'

'If you trust the beliefs of your son, then you believe that it will. So there is the question, my Advocate. Do you trust your son? Do you trust Roberto Del Aglios?'

Herine felt the heat rise in her face but she stared Gesteris straight in the eye.

'Go and clean up, Marcus. Take your powders to D'Allinnius. And then come back to the palace. I'll be in the genastro garden.' 'Yes, my Advocate.'

'And Marcus? Bring the Marshal General with you.'

Chapter Fifteen

859th cycle of God, 24th day of
Genasrise

Mirron had been this way before. Into the mountain where the river plunged from the sunlight of Yllin-Qvist to the dark of rock and the roar of water. She shuddered at the memory. She'd been fourteen at the time and the dreams had never fully left her. This time, though, they would turn left and not right, heading for Inthen-Gor. And they would be the first non-Karku welcomed in to see it. Honour and tragedy combined.

'It is so beautiful,' said Harban. His tone was soft and reverent. 'A great cavern and lake that we call the Eternal Water. At its centre is an island where our ancestors built the Heart Shrine. Both are as vital to us as the air we breathe. They govern all our lives and bind us to the mountains and the air and to all the creatures that walk the paths of the living and the tunnels of the dead.'

'You said the same thing last time,' said Mirron.

'The same words,' he said. 'Always the same. The beauty never changes. Or so we believed.'

Harban's face darkened and Mirron felt the urge to embrace him. But it would have made no difference. They walked on towards the boats that would take them into the mountain. Narrow and sturdy, with oars but also hammer-headed poles for fending them away from the lethal rock walls and roof.

All of them were to go. All two hundred. It would be a relay that would take a day. And while as many as could would be taken by the few boats, the remainder would make the longer and harder trek by foot. Mirron didn't really understand the geography of it all. Up on the mountainside a hundred or so feet above them, ninety soldiers were already entering the pathway. She almost wished she was with them but knew why she wasn't. The walk would take at least a day and the Karku would not risk her of all people not reaching the heart of the mountain before the invaders.

'Ready for this?' asked Jhered, getting into the lead boat and helping her down in front of him.

'No,' she replied.

'Nor me,' he said.

Harban thumped into the centre seat behind them. Two Ascendancy guard followed him and another Karku took up the rear fender. Four similar craft were lined up along the bank. A silence fell, nervous and apprehensive.

'Think how I feel,' muttered Mirron. 'I've done this before.'

'Karku,' called Harban. He spoke more words Mirron could not understand. Quick and thickly accented. Her Karku was not up to translating them. They sounded like a prayer. They were of no comfort.

The boats pushed away from the shore and moved forwards. Warm afternoon sunlight transformed into cold, wet darkness.