Cry of the Newborn (57 page)

'Wait,' said Kovan. 'Patonius isn't going to give us up and the crew won't mutiny. Not against her. All I'm worried about is who is coming. I didn't like that silence.'

'Who do you think it could be?' asked Ossacer.

There was furious activity up on deck. It sounded as if the sail was coming down. And presently, the unmistakeable rumbling of oars being shipped.

'Well, whoever it is wants to come and say hello,' said Ossacer, trying to sound bright. 'Think we've got any friends out here?'

Even Gorian chuckled. 'Only if dolphins have learned how to sail.'

The laughter was over-loud and Kovan shushed them. They could hear strange voices echoing from distance. There was a thud which had to be a gangplank going down. More feet. Determined, ordered. Plenty of them. Arducius felt a trickle of pure ice down his back and the dread realisation of complete helplessness. Well, not quite complete.

'Be ready,' said Kovan to Gorian. 'And any of you. I'm sorry but this sounds bad. It could be the Order.'

'They've betrayed us, haven't they?' said Arducius. Kovan nodded. 'My father's own people.'

Footsteps approached. Heavy boots thumping off boards. The door handle turned and the door opened. A man ducked in under the lintel. He was tall. Very tall.

'Well, well, well,' he said. 'The Conquord's new weapon. Now this is a happy coincidence. I've got work for you.'

Arducius didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

It was Exchequer Jhered.

Chapter 47

848th cycle of God, 1st day of
Solasfall 15th year of the true Ascendancy

Herine Del Aglios looked long out of the grand arched window in the palace conference room from her seat at the head of the long oval table. Dominating the skyline on the hills above the city were the great beacon fires. Ordering their lighting fifteen days ago had been the single worst moment of her life. And they would burn until the threat to the Conquord was gone. Or until the Conquord was lost.

The beacons had not been lit in three hundred years, when the last mortal threat to Estorea was felt. That the next should occur during her tenure was a shame she would never truly shed and it weighed heavy on her.

All across the Conquord, from Dornos in the north to little Easthale in the far south, to Bahkir and Tundarra in the west the sight of the fires would cause fear, confusion and even panic. That sight meant invasion and it meant that the citizens of the Conquord were being called to arms.

In every corner, the standing legions would be leaving their peacetime posts and travelling to the muster points. They could not know what they might face. The marching and dispersal orders had gone by bird and via the Conquord messenger service the same day the first beacon was lit in Estorr. Some would not yet have arrived. And all Herine could really do at this stage was pray that she had made the right decisions and that her orders would be followed by the marshals, consuls, praetors, aediles and generals on whom she now relied.

She'd quipped that on seeing the beacons, most of her command structure would have had to dig the emergency orders out of their

deepest trunk and blow off the dust of ages. No one had laughed at the time and right now, her words sounded hollow. The reality was that it was not at all certain that the beacons would be burning across her lands. And even if they were, there was no guarantee the emergency orders in advance of those she had despatched would be read, understood and acted upon.

Assembled before her were those diplomats and senior military officials who had been in Estorr at the time, in addition to the recently arrived consuls of Easthale, Caraduk and Avarn. Nineteen people in all, who had been thrust into position as the war council. Jobs that none present were qualified to do. Only a handful even had first-hand knowledge of conflict on their borders.

'So, can we hold them?' she demanded of the table once the preamble of welcome was done. 'And let's drop the protocols. Just speak. We are all equals here today.'

'With respect, I am not sure that is the first question we should be asking,' said Propraetor Cisone, head of trade. An old man steeped in the workings of the Conquord.
‘I
would rather hear, in best case, whether we can get our legions into their designated holding positions before they are overrun by the enemy. I know I am repeating old lines but we are deaf and blind to the actual situations on the borders of Atreska, Gosland, Dornos and Gestern. Everything we know is at least ten days out of date when we read it.'

Herine spread her hands. 'Yet that is our position. We cannot send messages at the speed of thought, only react to the information we do receive. Yes, Consul Hathones.'

Estorea's lead representative in Neratharn was recently arrived and she was glad of his presence.

'Neratharn has been on a state of high alert for years, ever since civil strife surfaced in Atreska. We have significant defence on our borders and that is going to be reinforced by the standing legions. We are confident we can hold the Tsardon.'

'But Atreska is abandoned to ruin,' said Megan, whom Herine had invited to the council as Atreska's most knowledgeable ambassador. 'You assume our legions cannot halt the advance and because of that refuse to place more forces at my Marshal's disposal. A conclusion I don't understand. I came here to ask for help. You are leaving my people defenceless against a ruthless enemy.'

'Perhaps this is why you have not achieved such high office earlier, young lady,' said Hathones.

'Don't patronise me,' said Megan.

‘I
apologise,' said Hathones and Herine raised her eyebrows. 'But your legions have not even been able to quell their own rebellious people for the last ten years. Conquord legions marching through your country have been subject to attack from the very people they seek to defend by defeating the Tsardon. To place a defensive line in Atreska now is pointless. The Tsardon were on your border twenty days ago. They are deep in your country now. We have to make a stand where we have the tactical advantage and that is not inside Atreska. It is on the border with Neratharn where our defences remain strong.'

Herine watched the wider meaning of Hathones' words sink in. Megan was staring at him, apparently unable to comprehend that Atreska was, in all likelihood, as good as lost. But the ramifications went far wider than that.

'We are fortunate, are we not, that there has been unrest in Atreska these past years,' said Cisone. 'It is a shame there has not been such disobedience in Gosland.'

‘I
think you had better explain that comment,' said Herine into the silence.

‘I
will lay it out for you,' said Cisone. 'And refer you back to my original remark about being overrun before we reach our positions. Atreska's civil war has ensured Gestern's northern borders are heavily defended. It has also ensured that Gosland's southern borders are patrolled and secured. Both these concentrations of forces will ensure Tsardon advances are slowed dramatically. And let me remind you that if we do lose integrity along the Gesternan border, we risk losing access to the metals and minerals of Kark on which our armies so heavily depend. Having to ship them from Kark's southeastern coast would be ruinous to our war effort.

'But should the Tsardon be in contact with the Omari, or should the Omari decide now is the time to exact revenge for our incursions into their territories, then it is surely from the north, not the east, that we suffer the greatest threat. The distance for communication is huge and the only battle-hardened legions are those we are going to have to draw away from the Omari border to meet the Tsardon threat.

Only the Tundarran navy keeps the Omari navy from landing anywhere it chooses along our northern and eastern coasts.

'If I were you, I would be sending a diplomatic team and some overflowing revenue chests to the Omari right now.'

Herine regarded Propraetor Cisone, looking for any hint that he might be exaggerating. He clearly thought he was not.

'Ambassador Tharin, what do you say to this?' she asked of the Dornosean diplomat.

‘I
am minded to agree with my learned friend here,' said Tharin. His resonant voice commanded instant attention. It was as deep as the frown driving his huge, grey bushy eyebrows together. 'Your orders, as I understand them, will remove the two reserve legions from our border and place them on Gosland's south and east borders. This is in addition to the three legions already withdrawn and who were to be used as additional reinforcement in Tsard. These legions, are of course, still in Omari and organising their detachment from the campaign. This leaves us with just four forward legions, the stretched support of the Tundarran navy and our own limited border defence. Should the Omari choose to march on us, we will not hold them for long.'

'You feel we have taken too much from the Omari campaign?' asked Herine. 'You did have an opportunity to object at the time the orders were drawn up.'

'I feel our chess board is ill-stocked with pieces,' said Tharin. 'And there is no doubting the greater threat is from the Tsardon we know to be in Atreska and rumoured to be attacking Gosland and surely Gestern. If you're asking me if the Omari can be pacified, well I doubt it. Whether they feel strong enough to move on to Conquord territory . . .' He blew out his cheeks. 'They might. They just might.'

'Then talk with Cisone after this meeting. Take who and what you need and organise diplomatic overtures with the Omari. Their accession will have to wait, I fear.'

'Of course, my Advocate,' said Tharin.

'Thank you. And now, with apologies to all those who know this, but for the benefit of those just arrived who do not know everything we are asking of their countries, Marshal General Niranes will outline our position. Marshal General.'

Niranes stood holding a sheaf of papers. The businessman turned politician appeared nervous and uncertain. For him, the figurehead position was one that secured him contracts and great wealth. Now, he was paying for the patronage and friendship of the family Del Aglios. Herine doubted he'd slept much these past days.

'I draw your attention to the map in front of you,' he said, reedy voice jarring on the ears. Around the table, delegates stood and leaned over. The lanterns suspended from the ceiling lit the carefully drawn and highly detailed relief map of the Conquord.

'Take a good look,' said Herine. 'This is a map I do not wish to redraw.'

Niranes sniffed. 'We have identified three defensible positions based on our calculations of likely Tsardon speed and Conquord resistance to enemy advance. They are Neratharn's border with Atreska, Gestern's border with Atreska, and in Gosland, a line from Goscapita and slightly south-west along the Alane Range and the Tharn Marches.'

Megan sighed. 'How easy it is to give away a country from the safety of the Conquord's heart.'

'None of the decisions made have been easy, my Lady, I assure you,' said Niranes. 'And we are ceding large swathes of Gosland too. The Atreskan problem isn't merely its state of unrest. We just don't have the reserves to organise an effective counterattack. And it is also your unfortunate geography. Beautiful though your flat lands are, and wonderful for crops, they are terribly hard to defend against a large army.

'Neratharn has the huge advantage of a line of border forts never dismantled after Atreska's accession and because of your constant troubles. It also has significant natural defence as does Gosland. I am sorry, as we all are, that your country will suffer as a result. But the wider health of the Conquord must be my primary concern.'

'People I love are there. Marooned. Abandoned.' She turned to Herine. 'My Marshal has for so long pleaded with you for the lowering of levies and the building of internal defence. And you have consistently refused. We will all pay. Atreska is only the first.'

'Megan, please, you are becoming emotional,' said Herine.

'And you are surprised?' Megan was shouting now, her face reddening but her voice strong. She stabbed a hand at the map. 'You have casually crossed off my home to protect yourselves. Left my

people at the mercy of the merciless. The Conquord swore to defend us. It sickens me that we are now so inconvenient.'

Herine stood.
‘I
will point out two things and then you will leave to compose yourself. First, your endless civil unrest was and is the responsibility of the Marshal Defender.' She emphasised the final word in what she was aware was a patronising manner.
‘I
will not be held accountable because so many of your citizens chose to fight against the Conquord when it was always plain they would prosper under our government. They are reaping the consequences of that resistance and it is tragic that innocent Atreskans will also suffer.

'Second, any level-headed citizen will tell you that before you can beat an enemy on the march, you must first stop that march. For that, you must pick the best battle grounds. We have done that and when the Tsardon are stopped, they will be beaten back and Atreska will be released from their grip.' Herine took a breath and paused.

'Megan, you are here because I thought you possessed of a keen mind untarnished by national prejudice. Please don't make me change my mind. You may go.' Herine waved her hand and turned away. 'Marshal General, please continue.'

Herine sat back down and found her mind wandering. Niranes was going on to recount the name of every legion which should be mustering to march to any one of the three designated fronts. To list numbers of infantry, cavalry and artillery. To explain how the Tundarran navy was going to maintain its watch over the Omari. And he would outline how the Conquord navies would mobilise to blockade the Tirronean Sea against the Tsardon fleet at anchor in the Bay of Harryn.

But the trouble was that all his numbers were based on complete complements and on every reserve citizen answering the call. The facts might be very different and there was not the military mind here to be able to redraw the plans should the numbers be down by ten per cent, twenty, maybe even a third.

She needed more information. More than that, though, she needed Paul Jhered.

‘I
didn't think Harkov would get there in time,' said Jhered. 'I'm sorry. I truly am.'

He had listened to the harrowing accounts of all five of them. The exaggerated versions of the Ascendants and the far more measured and factual report from Kovan Vasselis. It had served to stoke his fury and confirm his worst fears.

'We don't know what happened after we escaped,' said Kovan. 'My father was outnumbered.'

'But the town was with him.' Jhered nodded. 'He'll be all right. And Harkov will have made it. He's a good man and he knows what must be done. But what you did there and on board
Cirandon's Pride
changes the route I was going to take. We also need to avoid a war zone.'

He looked at the Ascendants, gathered on the side of the cot in his quarters while he sat on a chair in front of them. Kovan rested his backside on the desk. All of them looked tired, anxious and dishevelled. He'd had them fed and then clothed in the best his crew could find and spare. But that hadn't taken the pinched looks from their faces. Their last hours on Vasselis's ship had been hard. They were still floating near the Caraducian vessel.

'What were you going to do?' asked Mirron. 'And what do you think we're going to do? If Harkov is there, why can't we just go home? It's safe now, right?'

Children. One breath, a thousand questions. And no answers they would fully understand.

'First of all, believe that what I choose to do, I do for the good of the Conquord. Not you, and not me. If our good is served as a consequence, all is well. Next, understand that we don't have to like each other for our companionship to continue. You will come with me and you will do what I say.'

'You didn't expect to meet us out here, did you?' said Gorian.

'Did you work that out all by yourself?' replied Jhered sharply. He blew out a breath. 'Look. The world outside your so recently ruptured cocoon is in very bad shape.'

'Well, it can't be that bad,' said Gorian. 'Or we'd have heard about it.'

'Want to wear my uniform?' snapped Jhered. 'No? Then be quiet and listen to me. Say nothing unless I ask you, am I clear?' He watched them all flinch back but found he hadn't finished. 'Did you notice how one of my ships has no mast? That's because it took a two-talent stone fired from an Atreskan onager. They have turned against us. Civil war is now outright rebellion. I have people trapped in there who will probably not survive. Sixty thousand Tsardon are at this moment marching into Conquord lands. I have seen the vanguard myself and if you want go next door, you will see the wounds their arrows and swords caused us when we escaped them. Do not dare tell me it can't be that bad, because it is. And it gets worse hour by bloody hour.'

Jhered pushed a hand across his tied-back hair. They just stared at him, waiting to understand.

'Oh, there's no point to this. Menas!'

The door to the small cabin opened almost immediately.

'Yes, sir.'

'Take a longboat to the
Spear
and give them the sealed messages. They are for the Advocate's eyes only. She must hear of Atreska's betrayal.' Jhered clicked his fingers and turned to the leader of them, the thoughtful one. What was his name . . . 'Arducius. You can predict weather. I've a ship rowing due west to Estorr across the open sea.'

'The weather is set fair for four days. There will be another storm from the south after that.'

'Good, they can make it.' He turned back to Menas and took some parchment and a quill and pot from his desk. He gave her the pot and dipped the quill in it. 'Get Harin on board as well as any of the other wounded who can't get on the
Pride.
Tell Harin to talk to the Advocate. Give him my seal and tell him to deliver these messages. Again, to her alone.' He wrote as he spoke. 'He must tell her that I have the Ascendants and I will keep them safe from harm. Which includes hostile Conquord forces. That she must on no account allow further attacks on Westfallen. That we are going to join with Roberto. And she must trust that what I do, I do for the Advocacy and the Conquord.'

He handed her the paper. 'Understood, Appros?'

'Yes, sir. And Patonius?'

^l
Cirandon's Pride
goes to Kester Isle to carry the news that the Atreskan navy cannot necessarily be trusted. After that, they are to take word of the Ascendants' safety to Westfallen. I'll speak to her myself personally but you need to get Harin going now. Time is pressing.'

Menas saluted and left the room. Jhered turned back to the Ascendants and Kovan. Their expressions had cleared of their suspicion and anxiety. Mirron was even smiling.

'Glad you were listening,' he said. 'A lesson learned. Now, I need to apprise you of a few facts concerning why you must hide yourselves and those eyes from the Order. Why I want you to practise as hard as you can every day you are with me and why whether I or my crew think you are a force for good or a heresy against God has absolutely no importance whatsoever.'

Ossacer put a hand up, his sightless eyes boring into Jhered's face.

'Yes, young man.'

'Will people ever accept us? Even when we help them, they hate us.'

'Well,' he said, feeling a little good humour steal over him at long last. 'Win the war for them and they'll have no choice, will they?'

Chapter 48

848th cycle of God, 5th day of
Solasfall 15th year of the true Ascendancy

The wind was picking up out to sea and clouds were gathering over Estorr as night began to fall. A storm was on the way and people would be rushing around in the stifling muggy streets, anxious to get their business done before the rains came. God, as always would provide. The lakes and rivers would swell to fill the aqueducts and the filth would be scoured from the cobbles to rush down the drains, into the sewers and back into the earth. Estorr would sparkle when the clouds eventually parted.

But, once again, Herine Del Aglios sat in her private audience chambers and wondered if those she trusted most implicitly were actually working against her. The throne in these chambers was as uncomfortable as that in the basilica from where the impending war was being coordinated. She had returned from there to a private audience with Appros Harin. He was before her, seated at her order, his shoulder heavily strapped and his face pale with the pain of the arrow that had struck him. Down in the harbour, the damaged Gatherer vessel was already being steered to dry dock for repairs.

She had read the papers Harin had given her with a growing sense of inevitability. When it went wrong, it didn't stop. At least her decision not to confront the Tsardon in Atreska had been vindicated. It was cold comfort. As for Jhered's personal decisions
...
all in good time.

'You are certain of Yuran's defection?' she asked.

'He was hosting Tsardon in his castle, my Advocate,' said Harin. 'I saw them with my own eyes. And we were attacked by Tsardon and Atreskan forces during our escape.' The memory of it was plain on his face.