Last Battle of the Icemark (20 page)

“Yes, I know. But emotions are funny things, and especially female emotions.”

Ollie was about to say he knew that only too well, but wisely thought better of it. No one in his experience could hold a grudge like a female, of any species, but somehow, if she was human and Hypolitan there was an unrivalled artistry in her wrath.

The War Room of the High Command was situated deep in the caves beneath the citadel of Frostmarris. It had been moved there during the last war against Bellorum, when the Polypontian general had sent the Sky Navy and its bombs against the city. Here the gunpowder and blazing pitch that had poured out of the bomber-galleons had had no effect, and Thirrin and her allies had planned their counter-attacks in safety. But now the Queen and her daughter were preparing for a very different war; they were no longer fighting a defensive strategy, but preparing to invade what remained of the Polypontian Empire.

Cressida glanced through the lists of supplies almost sightlessly. The walls of the cave were lined with cressets where
torches blazed and brightly illuminated the planning tables. She and her mother had been going over figures all morning, and she was deeply and profoundly bored. But what made it particularly excruciating was the fact that she knew full well the Queen was simply using the checking of supplies as an excuse to avoid the dress rehearsal of the parade.

“Can the supply route through the pass be easily defended?” Thirrin asked.

Cressida sat back in her chair and stretched. “Well, as the pass isn't in enemy hands and we hold all three forts that defend both entrances, I'd say it was pretty safe.”

Thirrin heard the note of quiet sarcasm and decided to ignore it. “Good. Even so, I think I'll leave a regiment of werewolves as extra defence.”

“And deny the army their strength? Besides, which regiment do you have in mind? Every one of them is designated a frontline role.”

“Perhaps Eodred and Howler's . . .”

Cressida laughed aloud. “You'd have to tie them up first, and even then you wouldn't stop them following as soon as we'd marched over the horizon.”

“They're all soldiers of the Icemark. They'll follow their orders to the letter.”

This was too much; Cressida wasn't going to sit by and watch the army being denied the power and experience of the Regiment of the Red Eye. Besides, her brother and his werewolf friend would never forgive her if she let such a thing happen. “Mother! There'd just be no point in leaving them to defend the pass. It's safe! The supply route's safe! And we'll need them when the campaign really gets going.”

Thirrin looked at her daughter sharply. Cressida never
called her ‘Mother' unless she was really angry or determined about something. For a few moments she held her eye in a contest of power, but at last she sighed and sat down heavily. “All right,” she conceded. “I suppose they'll be useful against the Hordes.”

Cressida snorted. “Invaluable, more like.”

“Fine. I thought we'd just check through fodder supplies for the cavalry, after which there's the ration packs for the human infantry . . .”

“You're about to go to war, Mother, and part of your army's made up of Polypontian soldiers. In fact, one of your most experienced generals was second only to Scipio Bellorum in the Imperial military hierarchy . . . you're just going to have to get used to it, and stop putting off the moment when you have to acknowledge these facts,” Cressida pointed out in a reasonable, if forceful, voice.

“I'm not sure I—”

“Understand what I mean?” the Crown Princess interrupted.

“I was about to say, ‘I'm not sure I like your tone', young lady. You are talking to the Queen, you know!”

“Then, for goodness sake, act like it! I'd expect such obvious and immature diversionary tactics from a junior officer who'd messed up a duty roster, not from the greatest monarch the Icemark's had in more than a thousand years of history.” Cressida thumped the table with her mailed fist for emphasis. “Now, I don't know about you, but I'm thoroughly sick of supply routes, quartermaster's reports, and the problems of logistical support. So if you don't mind, I'm going to see how the cavalry's shaping up in the dress rehearsal.”

“Well, yes, I do mind, actually,” snapped Thirrin, deeply
resenting being put in her place by her daughter . . . yet again. “I happen to believe that supplies and logistical support are important to an army.”

“And so do I,” Cressida snapped back. “Which is exactly why I've already checked, double checked and triple checked every item and all procedures on every single one of these bloody lists!”

“Oh! Oh . . . have you? Fine. That's . . . all right, then, isn't it. Well, in which case I suppose you'd better run along, then.”

“And you?”

“No . . . no. I'll just check over these—”

“MOTHER! IT'S ALL DONE! For the love of all that's sane, leave it alone!”

A long silence stretched out between them, and then at last Thirrin drew breath and said quietly: “I can't.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not. If I stop doing this, I'll have to review the army, and then I'll finally have to admit to myself that I've . . . I've made an alliance with the very people who killed your brother and your granddad.”

Cressida looked at her mother, both appalled and embarrassed to see her in such a vulnerable state. Calling on all her reserves as a great warrior, she forced herself to look up and say, “I know, but things have changed. We need them, and they need us.”

Thirrin shrugged helplessly. “But that's just the point, things haven't changed; your brother and granddad are still dead, and some of those soldiers marching in the parade might have been there when they died. They might even have been responsible!”

Cressida sat down heavily. “Well, as to that, King Redrought died nearly twenty years ago, and it's historical fact that he wiped out the entire Polypontian army that was sent against him. And according to eye-witness reports, Cerdic was shot by Octavius Bellorum, and then Sharley killed him in the final battle of the last war. So who's left of the guilty ones?”

Thirrin gazed at the table, unable to accept the logic of what she heard. “But . . . but they're all the same! Every Polypontian soldier is a fanatical killing machine who could invade us again if we save their empire now. They're evil, Cressida, as a race they're evil.”

“There's no such thing as an evil race, just evil circumstances that make people do evil things. You know that as well as I do. I shouldn't imagine there's one nation in this entire death-riddled, war-torn, disease-riven world that hasn't carried out one atrocity or another at some point in its history. So let's have no more of this crap about evil races! The Polypontians are just people who have done some truly terrible things, and who's to say that we wouldn't have done exactly the same if we'd been in their position?”

“Never! Never in an age and an age of warfare would I have done what Bellorum did to us!”

Cressida looked at her mother, admiring her certainty. “Never? Not if by invading his lands and wiping out his cities you could have prevented Cerdic's death? Not if by some sort of pre-emptive strike you could have stopped the wars with Bellorum before they'd begun? Even if it meant killing thousands of non-combatants to do so? Just imagine if you'd known exactly what his plans were, and you'd been in a position to stop him. How many civilian lives would you have snuffed out to kill him? How many children would you
have been prepared to see wiped out to save your own child?”

Thirrin shook with rage, incensed that her own daughter was forcing her to confront her vulnerabilities. “That's not fair. I was never in a position to invade the empire.”

“But you know as well as I that you would have done if you could,” Cressida answered quietly.

“I am not Bellorum!”

“No. But you are human, and just like the rest of us you have the potential to be both a devil and an angel. There's no such thing as an evil race; just a human race.”

“Trite!” Thirrin spat.

“But true,” Cressida replied.

“This is ridiculous! No amount of playing with words is going to make me feel any different about the Polypontians. I can't bring myself to even talk to them, let alone lead them in battle.”

“And yet you must if we're to successfully confront Erinor and her Hordes.”

“I can't. I just can't!”

Cressida began to feel desperate. In a day or so she'd be crossing into the Darkness with Oskan to confront Medea, and she was determined to have this particular problem solved before she left. The country must have the strongest of leaders, without any distractions.

“What need does a country have for a leader who will not lead? You are without purpose or point,” she said with quiet ice. “Give up your throne.”

It took Thirrin a few seconds to realise what had been said, and then she gasped aloud. “To even think such a thing is treasonable; to say it is a matter for the executioner!”

“Or for the Wittanagast,” said Cressida, naming the
Council of Wise Ones who, in an emergency, could remove a reigning monarch from power and select a replacement.

“You threaten me with an outmoded tradition that hasn't been used in fifty years?”

“Forty-three years, actually,” Cressida said calmly. “And you know full well the Wittanagast still exist.”

“And on what grounds would you call them?”

“As I've already said, dereliction of duty. If you refuse to lead the army because there are Polypontian troops in the ranks, then you'll be failing in your role as Monarch.”

Thirrin breathed deeply to calm her raging nerves. To be threatened by her own daughter was so unbearable she could have screamed aloud in fury and frustration. “Many of the Wittanagast will be veterans of the wars against Bellorum. They'll understand me; they'll support me. Don't forget I'm a tried and trusted war leader with more than twenty years of successful rule to my credit. Do you really think they'll depose me in favour of you?”

“No, not a chance,” said Cressida easily. “Even though I too am a tried and tested war leader, my experience is negligible compared to yours. But the very act of being called to explain your actions and attitudes before a council of elders and the people of the Icemark will sully your . . . mystique. You'll no longer be Thirrin Freer Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield, irreproachable leader of the nation, but an ordinary woman who's facing enough opposition to force her to defend her actions. In short, Mother, you'll be exposed in all your ordinary lack of glory.”

“And do you really think that will bother me?”

“Yes. Your pride is equalled by mine alone in all of the Icemark.”

Thirrin looked at her daughter appraisingly. How had she produced such a ruthless, calculating monster? But then the answer came to her in shocking clarity. Cressida was her mother's daughter; she was a flawless reflection of herself.

“Why are you doing this?” she finally asked.

“Because the Icemark needs this alliance with the empire. Unless we throw our combined weight against Erinor and her Hordes, we'll be defeated. It's as simple as that. Survival, Mother, pure survival.”

Thirrin bowed her head and shuddered involuntarily. “But how can I lead soldiers of an empire that have committed genocide in my country?”

“None of the soldiers marching today have taken one Allied life; they're all too young, and the general that leads them actively opposed the war against us in the Senate. Your conscience will be clear, Mother. And if that doesn't make it any easier, then simply see them as another weapon in your armoury to use against Erinor; they're like a sword or a bow; when you've finished fighting, you can put them away.”

“Put them away?”

“Cast them aside, end the Alliance, however you want to put it. We haven't signed any treaties of undying mutual support and friendship. We all of us know this is a marriage of convenience. General Andronicus knows it, as do all of his soldiers. We just need each other at the moment, and when the moment's passed we can start hating each other again. This is diplomacy, Mother, you know better than I that today's trusted friend is tomorrow's bitter enemy. You even said something very like it in your speech at the feast of welcome for Andronicus. Why else is politics the perfect refuge for every liar, cheat and self-serving toad that was ever born? All
you need is a good set of teeth and the ability to smile convincingly with them!”

“Well, you certainly have a refreshingly clear view of the diplomatic service,” said Thirrin, amused despite herself.

“I'd sooner face the entire Bellorum clan armed only with a feather duster than spend longer than is absolutely necessary with a diplomat or politician.”

“You know, you could have a point there,” said Thirrin and laughed, immediately breaking at least some of the tension.

“I know I have a point. But at least the Polypontians we're working with now are just soldiers. There's something honest about the armed forces. It's pretty obvious what they mean when they attack you with a sword. No metaphors, no hidden messages, just the clarity of ‘kill or be killed'. We all know where we stand, it's just that Erinor is a bigger threat to us both at the moment. There's plenty of time for us to fight again later.”

Thirrin sighed. “You're right . . . of course you're right. But I can't help myself, Cressida. All I can promise is that I'll do my level best to work with them. Who knows, perhaps I'll get good enough at lying to convince even myself.”

“Perfect, that's all we really need! And if your prejudices start to show, I'll be there to remind you.”

“Oh, yes, I know you will, my darling daughter,” said Thirrin with an ironic smile. “I know you will.”