The Queen's Executioner

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘We out-number them ten to one.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ruellap replied, raising an eyebrow at him. ‘For now, we do. But for how long? We know they multiply like flies. Tell me, where does it end? Where would you draw the line, father? Five hundred thousand? A million? Three million?’

  ‘How about you tell me where you think it ends, son? With the starvation and destitution of three hundred thousand refugees, according to the august High Senate’s grand plan. Or would you prefer, like Kaeotip, to send the troops in to slaughter them?’

  Ruellap scowled. ‘No, father, I happen not to agree with what she proposes. What I want,’ he said, ‘is for them all to leave.’

  ‘Back over the volcanic wastes?’

  ‘If necessary, yes.’

  ‘Where countless more would die?’

  ‘Since when, father,’ Ruellap snorted, ‘have the lives of amphibians mattered more to you than those of your own blood here in Rahain? Have you grown soft in the head? Please don’t tell me that the rumours are actually true!’

  ‘What rumours?’

  ‘The ones that tell how you keep three Kellach Brigdomin slaves in your house, despite the provisions of the Slave Bill prohibiting this.’

  ‘They are part of the academy’s research!’ Laodoc cried. ‘They live, heavily guarded, on academy grounds, under the close supervision of Professor Geolaid.’

  ‘In your house?’

  ‘The northern wing, which I have leased out to the new faculty.’

  Ruellap smiled.

  ‘Come and see for yourself, if you don’t believe me,’ Laodoc said, folding his arms.

  ‘I might just do that, father,’ he replied. ‘Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.’

  They stood, and walked to the door.

  As they entered the crowded bar, everyone turned to look at them, and began to applaud and cheer. Laodoc was about to sidle off to allow his son to bask in the acclaim, when he felt a tug on his sleeve.

  ‘Father,’ Ruellap whispered, looking puzzled but amused. ‘They are applauding you!’

  Laodoc turned, and looked at the councillors cheering. His son was right. The accolades were aimed at him.

  ‘My friends,’ he said, ‘whatever has come over you?’

  Ziane strode forward, beaming, and thrust a glass of sparkling wine into Laodoc’s hand. The old conservative then turned to face the crowded councillors.

  ‘Most honourable colleagues,’ Ziane beamed, ‘it appears we have caught our friend Laodoc unawares. Shall I tell him the news?’

  The councillors cheered their approval.

  Ziane grinned as they quietened down.

  ‘A messenger has arrived,’ he proclaimed, ‘all the way from our distant Kellach domains, bearing the joyous news that the renegade fire mage has at last been captured, and is on her way here to the capital, in chains!’

  The whole bar roared, councillors from all parties shouting and stamping their feet, grins on every face, drinks in every hand.

  ‘That is indeed wonderful news,’ Laodoc called out, ‘but the congratulations surely belong with Commander Likiat?’

  Ziane gestured to the crowd, who hushed themselves again.

  ‘Your most honourable and valorous son,’ he said, ‘has expressly stated that the credit for the mage’s capture is yours, and that he couldn’t have accomplished it without your advice.’

  Laodoc staggered as his other son thumped his back.

  ‘A cheer for Councillor Laodoc!’ Ruellap shouted.

  The crowd cheered again, and surged forward to surround Laodoc, his earlier humiliation subsumed into a jubilant wave of congratulations.

  Laodoc felt oddly deflated as he stood waiting for Beoloth to bring his carriage round to the steps of the council building. After an hour of back-slapping, free drinks and patriotic fervour, he still felt hollow from his earlier defeat. There was also a pain in his heart when he remembered the speech his son had made against him. Ruellap had practically accused him of being a traitor, in front of the entire chamber. He knew it was just rhetoric, and that he himself had used such hyperbole many times in the past, but it still hurt.

  ‘May I speak with you, Councillor?’

  He turned. It was the trader, Douanna, whom he hadn’t seen in thirds.

  ‘Good evening, my lady,’ he said, forcing a smile. ‘I am at your service, of course. However, it is a little late, so perhaps an appointment in the morning…?’

  He broke off as his carriage arrived, and Beoloth opened the door.

  ‘It won’t take long,’ Douanna murmured, as she walked down the steps beside him. ‘We could talk on the way.’

  She held out her hand.

  Sighing inwardly, he took it, and helped her into the carriage.

  ‘Home,’ he called up to Beoloth as he boarded, settling into a seat opposite Douanna.

  ‘I listened to the speeches this evening,’ she said, as the carriage lurched off. ‘Yours was rather interesting. However, before we get to that, I do believe that some hearty congratulations are in order. That nasty little fire mage, caught like a weasel in a net! You may not know this, but I recently invested a rather large sum in the Kellach Brigdomin mines, and with this savage in chains at last, I may actually get to see a profit before I grow too old to enjoy it. I owe you my thanks, as it was all down to your plan, I believe.’

  ‘My son was too generous with his praise,’ he said. ‘I may have had the initial thought, but the real planning and execution, that was Commander Likiat’s doing.’

  ‘You’re far too old for false modesty, Laodoc, old chap,’ she said, smiling. ‘Anyway, I daresay that this success will do you no harm whatsoever, when you decide to campaign for the High Senate.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ he said. ‘It may be over-shadowed somewhat in the collective memory by my other son virtually accusing me of treachery.’

  She shook her head. She was quite good-looking, now that he thought of it.

  ‘I do admire your boy,’ she said. ‘A fine young fellow. Although I find some of his politics to be rather, immature and short-sighted. A trait he shares with his fellow Patriots, and a good few members of the other parties as well.’

  Laodoc smiled.

  ‘Your speech, on the other hand?’ She paused. ‘Quite visionary, I thought. To look past the fear and panicked reaction at the arrival of the Rakanese migrants, and instead see ahead to the future.’ She caught his eye and smiled. ‘A future that involves us making a lot of money.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately, as I’m sure you are aware, the council also passed a decree prohibiting all contact with the refugees, and they remain cut off by our army.’

  Douanna sighed, and sat back into her seat.

  ‘There will be loopholes,’ she said. ‘There always are. Hold tight for now, and wait for the law to be published. See if they remember to add in clauses about the use of third party intermediaries, or free agents, or holding companies. There will be something in there we can use.’

  He gazed back at her, intrigued.

  The carriage shuddered to a halt.

  She sighed. ‘I can only stay for one drink.’

  Laodoc stammered. ‘I would be delighted if you would join me.’

  He got out, and held Douanna’s hand as she stepped gracefully down.

  They walked through the quiet mansion. It was close to midnight, and Laodoc knew the Kellach would be locked up in the northern wing, as they would have been all day, with him busy at the council. He led the way to his study, where he seated Douanna in a comfortable armchair, and poured two glasses of brandy.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, taking her drink.

  ‘Do you know anything,’ she said, ‘about the skills the Rakanese mages possess?’

  ‘A little, I think,’ he replied, sipping his brandy. ‘They control water, don’t they? Similar to our power over rock.’

  ‘Indeed,’ she said, ‘that is their most famous ability. However, it’s a little k
nown fact here in Rahain, that some of their mages have a different skill altogether. At the lower end, they can turn raw clay into bricks. These mages will no doubt be hard at work in the Rakanese encampment, turning out bricks for walls, and houses and so on.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ he said.

  ‘Not really,’ she replied, narrowing her eyes. ‘Do you think I’m here to discuss bricks?’

  Her frown cracked into a smile. ‘Just teasing,’ she said. ‘No, it’s the upper end of these mages’ powers that interests me. These few have the ability to transform coal into diamonds.’

  Laodoc spluttered, some of his brandy going up his nose.

  ‘Somewhat more fascinating than bricks, wouldn’t you agree?’ she chuckled, as she waited for him to compose himself.

  ‘What do you think, then, old chap?’ she went on. ‘Could we put our heads together, and take a close look at the new law once it’s published?’

  He pondered. He knew Douanna’s motives for wanting to contact the Rakanese were different from his, but what did it matter? She had trade contacts, money and brains, and needed him solely for his position in the council. But if he could use her calculating avarice to open up a channel to the Rakanese leadership, it might be worth the risk.

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Enter,’ he called.

  The door opened, and Simiona walked in.

  ‘Apologies for interrupting, master, my lady,’ she said, her eyes lowered. ‘I saw the light on, and wondered if you required anything?’

  Laodoc heard Douanna stifle a laugh.

  ‘Not just now, thank you,’ he replied. ‘Though I do have a letter I need you to deliver first thing in the morning.’

  ‘Of course, master. How was your day?’ she asked, blushing a little, no doubt due to Douanna’s presence.

  ‘Oh, it was fine.’

  ‘What was I saying about false modesty?’ Douanna laughed. She turned to Simiona. ‘No, girl, your master’s day was better than merely “fine”. Councillor Laodoc won a standing ovation from the entire chamber this evening.’

  ‘Then you won the vote?’

  ‘Unfortunately not,’ he replied, reddening. ‘No, the uh, ovation was for something else.’ He found himself cheering up at the thought that he had assisted in the capture of the notorious killer and terrorist. He smiled.

  ‘What was it?’ she asked.

  ‘It was to honour my small part in the arrest of the infamous Kellach fire mage,’ he grinned.

  For a brief second Simiona’s face contorted in fear and alarm. Poor dear, he thought, she has been romanticising these rebels, no doubt lapping up the exaggerated tales he had overheard Bridget spinning her.

  ‘Please excuse me, master!’ Simiona cried, her voice strained.

  ‘Of course,’ he replied, as she fled the room.

  ‘Strange girl,’ Douanna said, after watching Simiona leave.

  ‘I think she may have had a little crush on the Kellach rebel,’ Laodoc smiled. ‘She is at a most impressionable age.’

  ‘I daresay,’ Douanna said, before turning back to him. ‘So, do you think you would be interested in exploring the new law when it is published?’

  ‘That sounds prudent,’ he replied. ‘Although we would have to proceed cautiously.’

  ‘Of course,’ she beamed. ‘Just think. Coal into diamonds.’

  Chapter 18

  At the River

  Rakanese Camp, Rahain Republic – 23rd Day, Last Third Winter 504

  ‘Quit whining, Clodi,’ Shella snapped, as they trailed along the muddy track by the base of a low hill. ‘We’re nearly there. In a few minutes we’ll be able to see the city.’

  Though she had never been there, Shella felt like she knew every detail of the place, having been supplied with continually updated plans and maps while she had been working in the camp at Silverstream. It took seven days for a runner to travel between the two camps, as one steadily grew, while the other emptied. As soon as Obli had arrived at the great river and declared it to be the location of their new city, she had been sending messengers back up north to Shella on a daily basis, and the flow mage had planned out every detail from a distance.

  As Obli had ordered, she had remained behind until the last of the new districts, Juniper Grove, had set out. At first she had been terrified, thinking that at any moment assassins would come for her, and she had spent many restless nights, despite having Jayki and Braga sleeping outside her tent. They were the only guards that she trusted, and she was paranoid that some of the others might secretly be under orders from Obli to do away with her. However, as the days had passed, and more districts departed Silverstream camp, her fear had dwindled away, replaced with a burning anger at what her sister had done.

  Growing slowly in confidence, she had decided to bend the rules in a few areas, and had permitted those most reluctant to leave the right to remain. From each district there had been a few objectors, who had petitioned her to be allowed to settle there. Consequently, ten thousand Rakanese were now building a permanent township at Silverstream. She had relocated them several miles up the small river, to be away from the heavily polluted ground where they had first camped, while recycling everything salvageable from the heaps of detritus left behind. Shella had also endowed them with a democratic constitution, with daily morning assemblies, and an elected council. There had been no explicit rules forbidding this, but she had kept the details from her sister nevertheless.

  Her conscience felt clearer at least. She had not been ordered to kill anyone since her mages had been executed, and had instead buried herself in work, not only taking charge of the regular departures of the districts southwards, but also the layout and planning of the new city.

  Shella looked up as she marched with Sami and Clodi at the rear of the Juniper Grove column. The majority of the civilians were already out of sight round the bend in the track, shielded by the hillside.

  She stopped.

  ‘Let’s get a better view,’ she grinned, nodding at her guards. ‘Up the hill, come on!’

  Before anyone could protest, Shella turned, and started racing up the grassy slope. The others followed, and she could hear Clodi shouting ‘Wait!’ as she ran.

  She reached the summit, out of breath, and put her hands on her knees.

  Below her, to the south, lay the great river, shining and glistening in the sunlight of a late winter’s afternoon. On either side was a broad, flat plain, that had been grassy meadows and boggy fens, until the arrival of the Rakanese. Now, the entire vista was shaded in browns and reds, from the mud and bricks of the new city. Walls and buildings were being constructed east and west along the riverside. One bridge across had already been completed, resting its length upon a dozen brick piers, while a further four were under construction. The northern bank was the busiest, and was fully occupied from the foot of the hillside where she was standing, for the entire mile down to the edge of the river. Thousands of boots had churned up any land not yet built upon into acres of thick, wet mud. Brown-smeared tents poked up from among half-finished brick walls, and a steady hum of vibrant life rose to her ears.

  ‘By all the demons!’ Sami cried next to her, staring open-mouthed. ‘Akhanawarah City.’

  ‘What a mess!’ Clodi said. ‘Why are there no roads?’

  ‘We need to build lots more drainage canals,’ Shella said, scanning the city below them. She pointed. ‘One there, linking possibly to a series of pools over there. Or the mud’ll never dry out. Canals first, Clodi, then dry roads.’

  ‘Do you ever stop working, Shella?’ Sami smirked. ‘Can you not just enjoy the view?’

  ‘I must admit,’ she went on, ignoring him, ‘Obli chose well. This is a great site. The way the valley keeps broadening to the south-east means we’ll be able to expand that way whenever we need to. This range of hills we’re standing on will absorb most of the bad weather from the north. It’ll be a fine summer down there. Not as hot as we’re used to, but pleasant enough.’r />
  She glanced at Sami. ‘The only thing I don’t like,’ she said, ‘is the name.’

  ‘Miss!’ she heard Braga shout. She turned to see her guards waving, and pointing down to a company of soldiers, who had come from around the base of the hill, and who were looking in her direction.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked, as she approached Braga and Jayki, though she could guess the answer.

  ‘That lot,’ Jayki muttered, thumbing at the soldiers below. ‘They’re not too happy about you running off like that.’

  ‘And why the fuck would they care?’

  ‘They’re here for you, miss,’ Braga said.

  ‘They knew you were about to arrive in the city,’ Jayki added.

  ‘Ahh!’ she said, putting on a fake grin. ‘My guard of honour!’

  Braga looked away, chuckling.

  ‘Something like that,’ Jayki said, spitting onto the grass.

  Sami and Clodi joined them.

  ‘Not house arrest again?’ Sami groaned.

  ‘Looks like it,’ Shella said. ‘Holiday’s over.’

  Clodi sighed, and they set off back down the hill.

  ‘Welcome to your new home, mage sister!’ Dannu greeted them as they emerged from an arched passageway into a small courtyard in the centre of a finished block of tenements.

  Shella took off the long cloak she had been given to wear by the soldiers, ostensibly to protect her from the mud, but the more likely reason, she knew, was to make sure her identity had been kept hidden from the people they had passed in the streets.

  Nearly two hundred soldiers, just to escort her. And these soldiers looked, and behaved, differently from the rough militia she had known throughout the migration. They were dressed smarter, and were a lot more disciplined than before. They were still armed with clubs and bows, however, with metals being so scarce among the migrants.

  ‘Hi, Dannu,’ Shella said. ‘Where’s Obli?’

  ‘Her Highness is busy, I’m afraid,’ Dannu replied. ‘Her afternoons are taken up with hearing petitions from her subjects. She has given me the honour of greeting the arrival of our high mage to Akhanawarah. And of course, to you Sami, and to you Clodi, welcome.’