A Shout for the Dead (46 page)

Inside, the villa was cool and quiet. The ceilings were high and Ossacer could sense great open spaces beyond walls and felt the weight of the two storeys above. It made the Ascendancy villa in Westfallen, a place he held in his memory as the grandest barring the palace itself, seem like a tight terrace. They walked thirty paces down a central passageway until he was shown into an ante-room. Two guards came in with him and the door was closed firmly behind him.

Ossacer let the mind map of the room coalesce. He was a little weary from the effort already expended this morning. This level of concentration stretched the mind and he was no longer used to it. He made a mental note to change that.

The room had shuttered windows down one wall and was otherwise clad in wood panelling. He could make out the dark shapes of hanging paintings while beneath his feet was flat, cold black marble. There was a low narrow table in the centre of the room and recliners were placed along its long sides. Ossacer moved to one of them but did not sit. He turned and faced the door, wondering how long he would have to wait.

Herine Del Aglios, Advocate of the Estorean Conquord, walked down the centre of the Prima Chamber at the Solastro Palace, fighting to keep her eyes fixed upon her throne at the far end. In so many ways, it was as every time she sat before the Conquord Senate. The light inside sparkled from the white walls. Warmth eased up through the stone flags, pushed by the hypocaust below. The flags of the Conquord territories hung from the ceiling moved lazily; and the grand busts and statues, decked with flowers, gazed regally down on the esteemed assembled company.

And saw what Herine saw. Dozens of empty places on the three tiers of benches.

Marshal Vasselis gave her the tiniest touch in the back when he stopped to take his place among his full delegation. When Herine turned to sit down, she nodded her gratitude and smiled though she felt like raging. Numbers were a third down at best guess. That meant only two hundred facing her.

None were present from Bahkir, where marshal law meant that they had no debating power. The Dornoseans had withdrawn from the Conquord and theit absence was not a surprise. But, barring Neratharn and, of course Caraduk and Estorea, no one had sent a full delegation, so far as she could see. Gestern's absence was disappointing and a great surprise. Katrin Mardov needed a good reason for it. And while the Gatherer bench was sparse because of accepted duties, the fact that the Order bench was completely empty was a slur on her authority and position.

'Welcome,' she said, hearing her voice echoing across the chamber. 'The Conquord hierarchy must be astoundingly busy for the attendance here to be so reduced.'

The muttering of conversation had ceased. Her tone had produced the desired effect. Herine paused and stared at them, letting the silence grow to uncomfortable proportions. She put her palms together and brought them to her face such that her two forefingers touched her lips. She waited on as long as she dared before dropping her hands back to the arms of the throne.

'I am not naive,' she said. 'There is trouble in the Conquord. It has been a struggle to rebuild ourselves, following the war with Tsard. And rumours of new enemy forces approaching our borders are sure to cause anxiety. I understand that and my orders for mobilisation of the legions are specifically designed to counter those concerns and secure our borders.

'But surely the Prima Chamber is the place to debate our issues. The genasrise meeting sets the agenda for the year. I find it difficult to believe, therefore, that problems in your countries, most of you, are so severe that your delegations are small if they are here at all. I notice civil servants in place of at least three Marshal Defenders. I understand my executive orders would have been surprising and no doubt irritating, but that is no excuse for this.

'So you shall not be naive either. Do not think I will thank you that you have sent a delegation of sorts. I will not debate with juniors, I will merely instruct. Do I make myself clear?'

There was the clearing of throats and a nervous shifting on benches.

'Good. So first, I will hear the state of the legion mobilisation and arrival time at designated muster points. First, I would like to extend my thanks to both the Atreskan and Goslander Marshals for their personal attendance. Despite the immediacy of potential threat, you are here and I am grateful.

'I will thus turn to our somewhat sparse Phaskareen delegation. I am sure I do not know who you are, who represents your Marshal

Herine waited for the man to rise to his feet. He was plainly nervous just as he should be. Middle-aged, balding and in need of exercise. His toga was tied too tightly across his gut and there was a sheen of sweat on his brow.

'I am Consular Secretary Karesidi, my Advocate.'

Herine glanced briefly to her left and scowled at Tuline. This was worse than she had been briefed.

'Consular. Secretary.' Herine clacked her tongue. 'What an honour. I have no doubt you are about to exhort me not to execute the messenger.'

Karesidi's laugh was shrill. Around him on the benches, every other delegate was delighted they were not standing and fearful of when they must.

'It is traditional, my Advocate,' he said.

'A feeble attempt at a joke,' said Herine. 'It is also traditional that when the Conquord Senate is convened, the Conquord Senate turns up.'

Herine's words echoed loud, her voice pitched to make them flinch. She continued.

'So speak the words your puppet-master bids you. I will make my decision on your fate when I have heard them. And I should point out to you, to all of you, that my mind is very much open.'

Herine leaned back in her throne. She looked over to Arvan Vasselis. He displayed the disquiet she felt. Poor Arvan. It never did get better for him. Karesidi coughed and cleared his throat.

'Our accounts and levy dues are with the Gatherer delegation for their examination in accordance with our obligations,' he said. And hesitated, wiping at his brow.

'Oh dear,' said Herine. 'Is that really the extent of the good news?'

'We received the mobilisation orders five days ago via messenger service. I received our response just yesterday. You have demanded that we should mobilise six legions. Three are the standing Phaskareen defence force. Three are from the trained reserve. All six to be full complements of four thousand five hundred citizens, and to be despatched to the Gosland and Atreskan borders.'

Karesidi gulped and Herine went cold.

'We cannot fulfil these demands.'

'Cannot, or will not?' asked Herine.

'As our accounts demonstrate, we are unable to pay for such a force. We are not a rich country and we give all that we can. We consider ourselves loyal to the Conquord.'

'I'm so pleased,' said Herine. The atmosphere in the chamber was taut. Karesidi looked about him for support. No one would meet his eye. 'Lonely, isn't it?'

'If we are to remain valid, useful members of the Conquord, we must first secure our local economy and security. Dornos to the north is no longer a friend. Gosland to the east is under pressure. Our muster has not brought the numbers required to send legions to the defence of the Conquord. Only to protect those interests which deliver the levies to the Exchequer.'

'Cannot, or will not?' repeated Herine.

'Both,' said Karesidi, voice a tiny whisper that filled the chamber.

'I see,' said Herine. 'You feel that to best protect yourself, you should allow the enemy to march uncontested all the way to your borders, is that right?'

'I understand your anger—'

'I very much doubt that, Secretary.'

'We cannot supply numbers that would be useful in the field without stripping our own border defences to the bone.'

'Your border defence is that which Gosland shares with Tsard!' shouted Herine. 'Your border defence
‘I
: that of the Conquord. Phaskar is not an independent nation, it is a territory of the Conquord. And until today,
1
thought a loyal one. This. This is treason. Unless you can express a different view. Secretary Karesidi.'

‘I
—' Karesidi gestured at his papers.

'You are just the messenger. Yes, I know. Here is what is difficult for me to understand. Unlike the Dornoseans, you are not telling me you are withdrawing from the Conquord. Am I correct?'

Karesidi nodded.

'And hence you still expect the protection and the economic, trade, transport and administrative support the Conquord offers. Don't answer that, it is blatantly true. So let me remind you, and hence your gutless Marshal, while he remains your Marshal, that a mobilisation order is not an invitation for debate and negotiation. It is a command from the Advocacy. And you will respond in full.'

Karesidi swallowed. 'My Advocate, I regret that we will not.'

Herine, the clamour of fury suffusing her body, saw Marshal Defender Potharin of Tundarra rise from his position on the front bench in front of Karesidi. He loomed large in the Prima Chamber. Potharin was a very tall old man, Marshal for over fifty years, predating Herine's ascension to the Advocacy. He was well built despite his years, heavy-featured and with a strong voice. Typically Tundarran. She awaited his words.

'My Advocate. Herine. It is with the deepest regret that I inform you that our decision is in accord with that of Phaskar. These are hard times. Difficult times, requiring new tactics and open diplomacy, not aggression.'

He wanted to continue but stopped. Herine was aware she was swaying where she stood. Tuline took a pace towards her but Herine waved her away. She sat down heavily and took in a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. Just to her left, Vasselis was gaping at Potharin. Herine felt as if she had been stabbed. God-surround-her, she had been.

'Tundarra
would let the Tsardon march across Gosland? Gosland whose people stood in defiance of the Tsardon to keep Tundarra free of invasion?' She pointed a finger at Potharin.
‘I
will send your most famous son to discuss this with you, Potharin. A son whose father's name is carved on the Victory Gates in Estorr.'

'Not even Paul Jhered could change this decision. It is the only one available to us. Don't make this difficult,
my
Advocate, please. We all know the forces on the Gosland border are not big enough to threaten us. But we have all heard the rumours circulating about what faces Atreska and what has already happened in Gestern. We cannot face them down on three fronts with any hope of success. We must negotiate.'

'I do not negotiate with invaders, just as I do not with traitors. The Conquord is a military might. The Conquord will fight.' Potharin's expression held a deep regret. 'Then the Conquord is failing,' he said quietly.

Herine jerked in her throne. She looked away from Potharin and to the Gatherer delegation.

'Clear the Prima Chamber,' she said. 'And summon the Advocacy guard to secure the person of the Advocate.'

She gazed out at the ranks of delegates, sitting in mute shock at her words.

'We'll see who is failing. And then we'll see who survives the reckoning. The Senate is dissolved. Get out.'

Chapter Thirty-Two

859th cycle of God, 36th day of
Genasrise

'Ossacer Westfallen,' said Felice Koroyan, rolling his name around her tongue. 'The fly seeks mercy from the spider. The enemy walks into the halls of the righteous, seeking redemption.'

‘I
am neither fly, nor enemy of the Omniscient, Chancellor,' said Ossacer quietly. He knew he'd have to ride out a level of provocation. It was just a question of time. 'Not today. I never have been. I have never wanted to be.'

Koroyan closed the door to the room and walked in a few paces. She didn't approach too close and made no attempt to sit down. Nor did she motion for Ossacer to make himself comfortable.

'You were born my enemy. And with every breath you take you become more so. With every action, you taint the face of God the Omniscient.' Koroyan made the encompassing gesture of the Omniscient over her chest. 'Your presence here is an affront to every citizen in the Conquord.'

She was a powerful figure. Ossacer hadn't really considered it before. She had come into the room alone, utterly confident in herself despite the potential danger in which she placed herself. And she filled the room with her presence. Ossacer couldn't help but be impressed. Her aura pulsed strength. It was deep green, shot with modulating browns, and it touched walls, floor and expanded well beyond, connecting to everyone and everything beyond her current space.

If only she knew how beautiful it looked. How absolutely right it was that she was the head of the Order. All for reasons she would dismiss and consider heresy.

‘I
have only ever sought to do God's work on this earth. Blessed by my talents and mindful of my responsibility. And I am here in that capacity today.'