God of Night

by Tom Lloyd

  The table was cleared with practised speed and a long hide map unrolled across it. The general ran a finger over the terrain marked there and Payl leaned forward, trying to work out the marked lines. Rarely did they get to see good quality maps, but this one seemed to have the full network of Duegar canals and major kingsroads marked, along with cities. She quickly found Siquil to the north, almost hidden by the general’s elbow, where the Cards had been heading last time she saw them.

  There’s a lot that can go wrong with this plan, Payl thought, not least the fact they might have screwed it up already.

  ‘Where is the Knights-Artificer vault?’ Eperois asked.

  Suth hesitated and exchanged a look with Payl. ‘Either it’s done or they’ve missed their chance,’ Payl hazarded. ‘We won’t get a second try.’

  ‘True,’ Suth agreed, looking reluctant. ‘Very well, it’s in Siquil.’

  ‘Where?’ Eperois scanned the map for a while, looking blank until an aide pointed. ‘Insar’s eyes, that’s the armpit of nowhere!’

  ‘Bound by ice and snow for much of the year,’ Payl explained. ‘Hard to get an army there much of the year and harder still to lay siege to.’

  ‘True enough.’ He traced a line with his finger. ‘A raiding party could go cross country towards Brethren territory. The city of Virequin is not far, spiritual home of the Brethren.’

  ‘And the Relic Council is based not far away, in Suelsin. If you advance towards that they’re forced to meet you.’

  ‘If I send word south, to Parthain, I could perhaps divert the remaining forces at Salorine Bas and have them make themselves noticed. Ah, now where puts pressure on the Brethren best?’

  ‘Is the Prince of Leshao an ally?’

  He shook his head. ‘But nor is the man keen to get involved. I imagine he has some sort of agreement with the Brethren of the Shards, but until they actually send for his help he’ll drag his feet.’

  ‘Then they push past Leshao and raid the southern towns of the Brethren – weaken them without over-committing. Force them to respond or lose a great swathe of land.’

  ‘They have sanctuaries scattered around there, all small, mostly close to cities so they can be evacuated. We might reveal our hand if we threaten those.’

  ‘With the shock of a coordinated attack forcing them to react?’ Suth said. ‘They don’t have the military might of the Knights-Charnel so they have to consolidate, withdraw the mages and small caches to the larger more fortified vaults. That reduces the choices and if we’re assigned to garrison duty, Commander Deshar can ensure our strike force is sent to the most likely option.’

  ‘They may prefer to divert troops rather than send mercenaries.’

  ‘It reveals their hand all the same,’ Suth said with a shrug. ‘We can tell you exactly where to go and ensure the Red Scarves delay any response.’

  Eperois sat back in his chair, fingers steepled as he stared down at the map. It was a long time before he moved, but Payl and Suth knew they could only watch and wait. A general was never rushed and while they didn’t have him yet, it was clear he was interested enough to investigate.

  ‘Very well. I will send word to Seit-e-Veirolle – inform them of your suggestion. My men will make you comfortable while I pursue this line with my officers.’

  ‘Of course, General,’ Suth said, rising. ‘We’ll await your orders.’

  Chapter 16

  Virequin, second city of the Lae Valley, was known to foreigners as the Breadbox of the Shards. The fertile plains that surrounded it provided much of the region’s oats and wheat so, as the Cards travelled that way, under escort from a full battalion of Brethren troops, it was through mile after mile of crops. It was a populous region and much of the time spent on the highway saw curious faces at the roadside, both other travellers and labourers in the fields.

  Toil found her view of the endless crops to be an excellent one from the back of a cart, her injury making riding difficult. The mind-numbing boredom of day after day like that somehow managed to intensify her discomfort. Despite Sitain’s furtive efforts, every bump in the road sent a crackle of pain through her shoulder.

  After five long days, however, her mood improved. Even the presence of a booze-sodden and hungover Anatin in the cart wasn’t enough to spoil things. For much of the morning she’d been able to see a distant haze of smoke in the sky, one that could only mean they were close to arriving at Virequin. She gave the snoring Prince of Sun a gentle kick to wake him, then a harder one when the first didn’t work.

  ‘Shattered gods, whass goin’ on?’

  ‘Wake up. We’re almost there.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Virequin.’

  Anatin grunted and rolled over. He and Varain had apparently forgotten to stop drinking the night before and ended up round the back of the tavern, expounding some half-baked theory of the world with a bear-like farmer until dawn. None of the men could string a sentence together by the time the glowering battalion colonel announced it was time to leave.

  Toil looked around the small cart the Brethren had appropriated for her. It was basic to say the least, just a few travelling packs and blankets thrown in to give her some sort of comfort. Luckily, Varain had been just about able to cling to a saddle. She’d only had to put up with Anatin being poured into the cart. If they’d both been thrown in Toil knew she’d have taken her chances on a horse.

  The road opened out presently and they found themselves passing between two mage-made earthworks topped with small forts. Beyond that was the main suburb of Virequin, a place of rough caravanserai-style inns, workshops for the more fragrant trades and a warren of cheap housing. The richer parts were only glimpsed in the distance but still Toil found herself impressed. Virequin was a bustling city of trade with few signs that the sputtering conflict between Orders was affecting life.

  Before long they came to a halt, the colonel’s authority not extending far into the city, and the usual waiting around for bureaucracy began. Some city official wanted to dump the Cards in the nearest fleapit of a caravanserai. It took the colonel, along with Major Elsail, who was determined to garner as much credit for this as she could, a long while to persuade them that the Cards needed to be dealt with more hospitably, or at least contained better. At one point the official suggested arresting and disarming the lot of them, only for Elsail to say he’d have to stand right next to anyone giving that order.

  At long last they continued, across a branching river to the spit of land that lay between. A long fortress dominated the western bank while an enormous copper dome of Veraimin’s temple rose from a massive yellow-brick monastery complex in the heart of the city. This stretch of land was given over entirely to the Order. Here was the very heart of the Brethren of the Shards and as impressive as the city’s temple was, there was one building here that overshadowed it.

  Behind the fortress, on a rise of land that ensured its glass dome stood above the fortress towers, was the Hall of All Colours. While the administrative heart of the Order was elsewhere, this was its spiritual home – a huge star-like building with five narrow wings projecting from a rounded heart. Windows occupied the upper half of each wing and almost the entirety of the dome, stained glass throughout. All of the Riven Kingdom had heard of this place, but few were permitted to witness it from within. Legend said that the majesty of Veraimin’s light could dazzle the most impious of hearts. Toil for one was keen to test that.

  The Cards were the only people not in religious or military garb and looked all the more out of place for it. Toil took one look at the empty stables they were clearly being directed to and yelled for the cart to stop, giving Anatin one last kick before she scrambled down.

  ‘Aben, Foren – get everyone settled where they’re told,’ she shouted loud enough for most of the company to hear. ‘Even if you have to jam something down Varain’s throat, I don’t want this turning into an argument.’

  ‘Yes, boss,’ her big lieutenant replied with a grin. Varain mad
e an obscene gesture, or as much of one as he could while bent over his saddle. He didn’t argue though. Even without a hangover he wouldn’t choose to tangle with Aben.

  Major Elsail dismounted and hurried over to her, collecting Toil’s weapons so she could escort her to wherever they were going. The colonel, a watery-eyed blond man, beckoned them over to where an elderly woman in a habit had arrived.

  ‘Sister-in-Shards Suel,’ the colonel said, ‘this is the one. Or rather, she’s the one they’ll want to speak to. The commander may have sobered up by now, but she’ll speak for him.’

  Toil cast a look around at the remaining Cards. It would seem strange if she went into whatever this was alone, but the selection remaining wasn’t great. Safir would be the obvious choice, the highest-ranked Card beside her and able to converse with nobility too, but they were a bunch of white-skinned religious fanatic leaders. In the end she had to settle for Llaith and beckoned the ageing mercenary over. He wouldn’t be overawed and was one of Anatin’s closest confidants.

  ‘You’re coming with me,’ she called. ‘You’ll know the commander’s mind well enough.’

  ‘You do not?’ asked the nun. She had an open and guileless face, full of benevolence and wisdom. Toil had met that harmless sort before and knew she’d have to watch Sister Suel carefully.

  ‘I’ve not been with the company long,’ Toil explained. ‘This one’s an old drinking crony o’ his. The plan’s mine but … well.’

  The sister inclined her head in understanding. ‘You will have to leave your weapons,’ she said to Llaith.

  The Diviner of Tempest handed them to a nearby soldier and tugged his jacket straight. Running a hand through his hair he gave the nun his best winning smile. ‘I place myself in your tender hands, Sister.’

  Toil spotted the quirk of a smile on Sister Suel’s lips before she turned away to lead them towards the great hall. She exchanged a look with Llaith who beamed: the man’s strange ability to charm powerful older women apparently as strong as ever. Major Elsail made a gesture to a group of soldiers and they fell in behind, each one bearing an iron-bound casket that contained God Fragments.

  Toil and Llaith followed the sombre procession down a long gravel path that skirted the inner fortress wall, aware all eyes were now turned their way. It ran for a hundred yards before curving left and making for the Hall of All Colours where one of the wings ended in a blunt face set with a tall door.

  The hall could once hold every member of the Order but, as large as it was, that had been impossible for more than a hundred years. When a Grandmaster was elected, every high priest, abbess, abbot, general and colonel would gather here – ostensibly to vote on the choices presented, but largely to acknowledge their new ruler. The hall wasn’t so full today, but still Toil found herself gasping at the sight within, while Llaith managed not to finish the inappropriate words that appeared on his lips.

  Inside it was dazzling: there was no other word Toil could muster. Daylight streamed through the dome and two score windows to cast a brilliant multi-coloured glitter across the hall. The entrance wing had no seats, only a smooth stone floor with marble sarcophagi lining the walls. Beyond that, in the huge central space and the remaining wings, were row upon row of mage-carved wooden pews, several hundred of them. They all faced the centre where a raised dais bore a round table with grand throne-like chairs around it. Suspended on thick chains was a great brass lamp taller than Reft. Rich golden light shone through the lines of prayer that had been cut into it, but with the sun out it barely made any impact on the room.

  A riot of colour overlaid the entire hall, gloriously beautiful on the pale white stone. Gold-leaf decorated the windows and sarcophagi that occupied much of the outer space, while the floor had been inlaid with plaques of rose-pink marble.

  The sister started down one of the aisles and Toil had to nudge Llaith into following. Up by the table was a group of four men and three women, standing behind chairs as though awaiting Toil with remarkable courtesy. When Sister Suel joined them, however, they sat, all following the lead of one tall man in military uniform at whose shoulder Suel stopped.

  ‘Enter as honoured guests of the Relic Council,’ the sister called across the hall. ‘Blessed of Veraimin you are and so we embrace you.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about blessed,’ Toil said cautiously as she walked down the aisle, ‘but I’ll never turn down a blessing.’

  The rest of the vast space was empty and echoing. It seemed an incongruous place to have a private audience given how well the sound carried, but this was the heart of their power after all.

  ‘Veraimin’s blessing shine upon you,’ Suel intoned. ‘Shardmaster Aeolae, I present to you Lieutenant Velas Talere, second to Commander Adrin of the Honourable Company of the Dregen Red Scarves, Fifth Battalion.’

  ‘And the other?’ the Shardmaster inquired.

  Llaith stepped forward and bowed deeply. ‘Corporal Llaith, your grace.’

  ‘Very well. Approach. Lieutenant, you are injured, you may sit.’

  Aeolae had a soft voice, as though his position ensured others would make the effort to hear him. Toil sat at one of the free chairs with a wince. Her broken shoulder was much improved, but still painful. With luck the city would have an apothecary she could visit, given they didn’t want to reveal Sitain’s magic.

  ‘Major,’ Aeolae said after a pause. ‘The shards.’

  The soldiers had stopped at the end of the entrance hall, but now they marched forward to lay their caskets as gently as they could on the polished tabletop.

  ‘Go,’ Aeolae ordered as the first soldier began to open the casket. They all bowed and scurried away again, out of the hall itself, and the door boomed shut behind them.

  The members of the Relic Council assembled got to their feet, age proving no hindrance to eagerness. With seven present, Toil knew she had half the council. Even if the High Shardmaster, an elderly nun called Grailae Ser, wasn’t here, this showing still indicated how animated the Brethren were about her gift. She guessed only two of these would actually be residents of Virequin. That left two in uniform besides Aeolae and two senior priests – a significant delegation to have been dispatched at short notice.

  Before long, the fragments were unpacked and laid out on the table in five small groups. Aeolae led a short prayer of thanks while Toil tried not to roll her eyes, glad she’d not brought Safir in case the man was tempted to join in with his own version. Finally, their sense of wonder was over and it was time to get to business.

  ‘This is indeed a great boon you have brought us, Lieutenant Talere,’ Aeolae said at last. ‘But strife comes with it.’

  ‘Hardly the first time a cache of God Fragments has brought trouble,’ Toil replied, trying not to sound as irritated as she felt. ‘That’s mostly what they’ve been used for these last few hundred years.’

  ‘Indeed – the impiety of the weapons trade is a burden on all our souls. However, I speak of a more specific strife. The Brethren of the Shards have largely remained outside of the recent conflict, but now you force our hand. We have summoned Commander Deshar to explain himself.’

  Toil nodded. ‘You’ve remained apart, that’s true, but with respect, Shardmaster, how long did you think that was going to last?’

  ‘There is now a limit to peace?’

  ‘When the Knights-Charnel are involved?’ Toil nodded. ‘Damn right there is.’

  ‘The Knights-Charnel are your enemy, so I’m told, not ours. I see why you might look to us for protection, but you win no allies here.’

  ‘I’ll admit we’re no great friends with ’em,’ Toil said with a dismissive wave, ‘but all this effort just to win protection? The Knights-Charnel don’t care enough about us to go to war. And anyway, they’re already at war. Their sights are on the whole of the Riven Kingdom, not one mercenary company.’

  Aeolae laughed. ‘I would be the first to accuse the Knights-Charnel of arrogance, let me assure you of that, but to say they would risk all-out
war is another matter entirely.’

  Toil cocked her head at him. ‘With respect, my lord, don’t you think their current actions already risk that? They’re subsuming smaller orders as we speak. They’ve always been the most aggressive of your rivals. How long before they go after the big game?’

  ‘You call us rivals? Brothers and sisters under the gods might be more accurate, for all our disagreements.’

  ‘Brothers and sisters with a radical creed,’ Toil insisted. ‘Their power plays have been going on for years, but their efforts in the south have stirred up something new. Word is that a new age of magic is coming.’

  ‘Consolidation and fracture among the orders is hardly rare,’ Aeolae replied. ‘What you suggest is something else entirely. The High Shardmaster herself has declared it unthinkable.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ Toil paused and looked around the council members assembled there. ‘For all our sakes I truly do. This ain’t a war I’d want to see fought on my home territory.’

  ‘It is not a war I wish to see fought at all, yet you have made it more likely with this gift.’

  ‘If I’ve done anything, I’ve pushed it forward a few months – no more’n that.’

  ‘But to the Knights-Charnel it appears as though the Brethren have entered the fray. That we are intent on taking over the Knights-Artificer as our first move.’

  ‘Return the fragments then,’ Toil said with a shrug. ‘Turn us over to the Knights-Artificer and wash your hands of the whole incident.’

  ‘You volunteer for execution?’

  ‘I’m just saying I know it’s one of your options. This was a gamble of mine, I’ll own the consequences. But I don’t think this is a fight you can afford to stay out of. It’s coming to your door and soon, so the only question is whether you’re ready for it.’

  Aeolae was quiet a long while. He exchanged looks with several of his colleagues then gave a non-committal grunt. With a wave of his hand he dismissed her and Sister Suel rounded the table to usher them away.