Swords of the Imperium (Dark Fantasy Novel) (The Polaris Chronicles Book 2) (8 page)

With the sun less than two fingers away from the horizon, the caravan finally entered the city. For Taki, the entire place smelled of yak butter. It was a sour smell, just shy of rancid, that seemed to suffuse every breath. The smell, combined with the musk of actual yaks, made his nostrils fill with mucus. Now that he was inside, however, he could see that this was really no different from most other cities he had been in. He considered investigating whether he could find grilled harspud on a stick.

“Natalis, we’re getting off here,” Lotte said as she slapped the wooden side of the wagon with her palm.

Taki stepped over the rear grate and carefully hopped onto the packed dirt of the boulevard. It was good to finally be on his feet.

“The wagons will take a longer route to the headquarters, but we’ve got to make haste and meet their leader before too long,” Lotte added.

“Yes, Captain,” Taki said. “Where’s the headquarters, anyway?”

“There.” Lotte pointed, and Taki raised his eyebrows. Looming above the cityscape was the Potala, a massive, blocky keep set atop a hill and ringed with stone walls. Red in the center and white on its wings, it was as striking and overpowering to behold as the open sky.

“There?”

“Yes, there,” Aslatiel said, shaking the dust from his cap. “The Korps uses the white parts to house its members and garrison, and the regional government uses the red. It’s a symbol of authority for the people. I’m told that it was once a monastery that ruled an entire kingdom.”

“Looks like a painful climb,” Lotte said.

“It was built for aging monks, so there’s gentle stairs everywhere. Let’s get a move on.”

From the outside, the Potala seemed absolutely massive, but on the inside, Taki found it to be cramped, smoky, and dark.
Just like what Eastern monks—and old Hecaton—would want for their lodgings
, he figured. The compound had also been built to withstand sieges and earthquakes. Redundancy was everywhere, from the thick wooden beams crossing overhead to the walls reinforced with ancient metal bands. Eventually, their Korps escort led them to an office on the top floor, and the two squads filed in.

“Glory to the padishah,” Aslatiel said; he saluted a woman sitting at an ancient wooden desk. “I am Oberleutnant von Halcon. We’re Alfa.”

The woman at the desk did not rise but returned the salute. She was squat and looked to be in her fifties, with the leathery features of one who’d lived at high elevations all of her life. Taki noticed the wheelchair before the others did.

“Rinchen Wangchuk, the rector here. I command the garrison and schools. Zhang here is my second in command.” She gestured to a lean-faced man behind her. “Forgive me for not rising to greet you, but I lost the use of my legs long ago. My sincere thanks to you for the quick response to our crisis. Please, sit and have some
pocha
. We always serve it to guests.”

Zhang hefted a nearby silver-colored kettle and started to pour into bowls. Aslatiel accepted a bowl and sipped from it. Taki looked down at his bowl and decided not to try the oily, purplish liquid.

“There is nothing to forgive. Thank you for your hospitality,” Aslatiel said. “Defense of Imperial education is our most important task.”

“Glad to hear it,” Rinchen said. “How was your journey here?”

“Uneventful. We look forward to getting to work. At our commander’s request, we’ve also brought supplies and weapons for the garrison.”

“Good. Most of our equipment is outdated. It was adequate for a peaceful province, but with the rebels gaining strength, we cannot answer them with mattocks and padded jacks.”

“How many fighters do you have ready?”

“A thousand from the province. I have a dozen or so who could be line officers and a handful trained in the use of artillery.”

“That’s rather few for an army.”

“We’ve never needed more. This is a harmonious place. No one’s fired a gun in anger in nearly forty years. We’re teachers and administrators first. Soldiers second.”

“Your artillery forces? Cavalry strength?”

“A few catapults and a pair of bronze cannon.” Rinchen shrugged. “Most people here can ride and shoot from horseback, but we have no armored kataphracts, if that’s what you’re asking for.”

“How about the enemy? Do they use the same equipment?”

“Probably close to two thousand in number. I think they’re being supplied by smugglers from the Nathu La pass. The teachers who survived recall seeing relic rifles and plate armor, and perhaps some bombs. When you see the school, you’ll understand. We couldn’t best them in a fight, not without your help.”

“Do you know where they’re holding their captives? The girls from the school?”

“Unfortunately, we don’t. The rebels did a good job of covering their escape, and the men I sent after them have either been killed or found nothing. The people are scared and upset. There are over a hundred girls missing, and the terrorists are issuing unreasonable demands. They want the Korps to leave permanently and for the region to revert back to rule by the
Lamas
. I’ve tried to stall them as long as possible, but now they’re saying they’ll sell the girls off as slaves if we wait longer. We both know what will happen to them in that case. We can’t track them all down.”

“Rector,” Aslatiel said, “I can assure you that we will find and eliminate the Mandate of Heaven. I’ll need the full cooperation of your subordinates and the authority to issue orders to the garrison troops. Is this acceptable?”

“Can you rescue the girls?”

“If the rebels are dead, they cannot sell their captives.”

Rinchen nodded. “I understand. You will have authority over my troops. Zhang will see to your quarters and allocations.”

“Excellent.” Aslatiel set his empty tea bowl on the desk. “One more thing, before I forget. A trainee should have arrived here direct from Sevastopol. Do you know where she is?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m told the girl came; however, she’s not reported to me. Hopefully, she hasn’t deserted.”

Aslatiel raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. Thanks for your help. We will unload the supplies, survey the base, and then investigate the school in the morning.” He looked back at the others. “Captain Satou and I will stay and talk more with the rector. The rest of you, follow Zhang and assist with the unloading.”

Strange. I’m the highest-ranking member of my squad right now,
Taki thought as he followed Zhang down a side staircase that led back to the White Palace courtyard. Lucatiel followed alongside him. Her presence still raised his hackles. He could tell she still seethed over their duel in Pristina. His only comfort was that if she wished him dead, he would have been so already.

“You look troubled,” Lucatiel said.

Taki blushed. Was it so obvious on his face? “Sorry. I was just thinking about the battle to come. Your brother was right. Your Imperium is always at war.”

“We don’t choose the life given to us.”

“I’m curious about something he said. Surely we’re also here to rescue the captives and prevent them from being sold as slaves or killed, right?”

Lucatiel shook her head. “No, he never said that. We’re here to destroy rebels. If we can free some imprisoned schoolgirls, then we’ll do so. If it’s a choice between the girls and eliminating the rebels, we’ll eliminate the rebels. Everything else is collateral.”

“That’s fuckin’ shitty,” Hadassah said. “How are you gonna conquer the world if you can’t prevent your own people from getting raped to death?”

“Watch your tongue,” Lucatiel said. “If the girls die, they die. But if we don’t kill every single traitor, that only encourages more of them to crop up. And then you’ll damn many more to the same fate as those girls.”

“So we’re supposed to turn a blind eye to those girls’ right to live?”

Lucatiel spat. “No one has a right to live. Not you, not I, not anyone. Those girls know the risks. And if I need to carve through ten of them to hit one rebel, I’ll do so without hesitation.”

“You’re pretty sick.” Hadassah grunted in disapproval. “Maybe if you were better at what you did, you’d be able to save innocent lives.”

Lucatiel wrapped a friendly arm around Hadassah’s shoulders. “Fight me, bitch. Ten minutes, behind the Palace. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. Far too much trouble.”

Hadassah grinned and tenderly squeezed Lucatiel’s hand. “You’re on, girlfriend.”

Taki narrowed his eyes. “Mikkelsen, don’t you dare.”

“No one likes an eavesdropper,” the two shot back in unison.

“The caravan’s pulled up,” Zhang said as they stepped into the courtyard. The drivers had done a painstaking job of maneuvering through the congested and ill-planned streets of Lhasa, and the wagons were now arranged in a circle. “I’ve ordered my men and some of the garrison to help unload this all. I’d appreciate it if you Spetsnaz would post guard throughout. I’m sure the Mandate of Heaven knows you’ve arrived by now, but your presence will prevent them from trying anything for now.”

“Will do,” Lucatiel said. “My people and I will take the east flank. Natalis, you and your inferiors can do whatever. Just don’t get in our way.”

“They’re not inferiors,” Taki said. “Emreis and Gillette, watch the rear. Mikkelsen, you’re on overwatch. Take turns surveying the base, too. I’ll rotate between posts.” Part of him expected them to either laugh or simply stare, but to his surprise, the others simply shrugged and went off to their posts.

“Oh, so they
do
listen to simple commands after all,” Lucatiel said with a smirk.

As the tarpaulins were rolled back and fell aside, Taki realized:
we’ve enough weaponry for a small army
. Now he could see that the wagon train had been stuffed with implements of battle: stacked wooden crates of muskets and sabers, pikes and spears tied like cordwood, and sets of boiled leather and cloth armor bundled into sacks. Chattering in their native tongue, the garrison gleefully set to work pitching the valuable arms to waiting comrades.

Zhang flailed. “Careful, dammit!” One of the crates fell and broke into pieces, and cartridges rolled merrily every way. “Clean this up, and don’t scratch the bullets. And no filching! This is your only defense from the rebels.”

“I’m sorry, where are the jakes?” Taki asked a porter nearby. He would have to check on Hadassah soon, just to make sure she wasn’t getting into a dustup with the Prince of Maladies. But first, he needed to attend to his bladder. The porter half nodded, half shrugged, and pointed unhelpfully at the perimeter fence. Annoyed, Taki decided to find the latrine himself.

The search ended up fruitless. Of all the mess of sheds and lean-tos near the perimeter fence, none seemed to have a toilet attached. Taki considered simply going against a wall when a jingling noise nearby quashed the thought. His bladder forgotten for the moment, he peered around a pile of pallets. A girl had scaled the top of the fence, avoided death by impalement on its spikes, and made her way down. Her movements were too feline, too wary, to be anything but a product of martial training. He stepped out to block her way.

“Halt!” Taki said, annoyed that his voice had almost cracked. “Who are you? Why did you climb in here instead of taking the gate?” His hand hovered above the holster at his waist. The girl was also armed—and with a first-class pistol too—but he could still beat her to the draw. She flashed him a look of indignation that quickly turned to sheepishness. As far as Taki could tell, she appeared to be his age or slightly younger, with a rounded face and curly, uncontrolled hair. She wore ill-fitting battle leggings stained with mud and dust and a thin linen top that was nearly translucent with sweat. Taki’s eyes strayed involuntarily to her chest, which was still boyish in silhouette. He quickly looked away, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

“Not so loud! I serve the padishah.” She waved her hands to shush him. “I just got here, myself.”

“Where are your papers?”

The girl reached carefully into a leather purse and pulled out a small pamphlet of bound parchment. Taki took it and flipped to the front page. The ink drawing was smudged but seemed to grossly match her features, and he quickly scanned over her name and company standard.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re with Alfa?”

She flashed him a row of gleaming white teeth behind sunburned, chapped lips. “Yep! Enilna Shpejtspate. I’m apprenticed to Aslatiel von Halcon.” She saluted stiffly.

“Cornet Taki Natalis.” He silently chided himself a moment later for slipping up the ranks.

“Corn? Are you a farmer?”

“No, I misspoke. I’m a fahnrich.”

“That’s too bad,” she said. “An army marches on its stomach, so I thought maybe they’d put tactical farmers in the units. You know, harvest the wheat and thresh the oppressors!”

“What are you talking about? It takes an entire season to grow crops. You can’t just plant grain on the front lines—” Taki realized with a start that he had forgotten entirely about preventing whatever mischief Hadassah was planning and also about the need to relieve himself. He shifted his feet, feeling harried again.

“So you
are
a farmer after all! No one else would know the ancient secrets of agronomy.”