A commotion in the outer corridor was stifled by a familiar voice, breaking the obedient quiet – Gau Tam ordering passage for his prisoner. Borze drew himself to attention and was not surprised to see Alide led within, flanked by his second and by the pale and bandaged figure of the infomancer, Mazhd. A second figure, in chains, rattled and shook between grim-faced soldiers behind them – the other assassin. At least they hadn’t slung chains on Alide. He doubted such a humiliation would have helped. At the back of them the shrouded sepulchral form of Parlumi Night drifted in a private gloom like somebody’s forgotten shadow. There was no sign of the girl who was now her student, Isabeau Huntingore. He’d never forget that name as long as he lived.
‘Sir!’ He started to find a runner at his elbow, her lanky figure as slight as a banner’s edge, her voice raspy as if she’d been shouting all night. ‘Spire operatives have kidnapped the daughter of Professor Huntingore. They have got away. Infomancers have taken a prisoner.’
He saw Isabeau’s white body bent, naked, indifferent, between two athletes intent… Finding Mazhd’s gaze on him, giving him the merest shake of the head. Another daughter, then? He breathed, finding that he hadn’t for a while. The runner was already gone when he looked again.
More argument outside brought a face he didn’t know into the room – a lawyer judging by her robes though they were carelessly put on. Party clothing peeped between their sombre vertical planes and she wobbled slightly on ribboned platform shoes. Her face held no frivolity however. In her hand she carried a folded document, the stock in trade of deposition and sentence in the purple border colours of the War Court. He only knew it because he’d received a missive on it the day before announcing the Empress’ intent to pursue war if she faced continued opposition from Spire and in the south. It was the first time the authorities had admitted that the digsite was more than a skirmish or a single battle. Gau Tam had made a joke about it being a real war now that they had decided to use the purple paper. Alide’s hand had signed. Had he known about this assassination plot too, then? It was hard to imagine him a traitor, whatever his personality and how much Borze personally disliked it.
They assembled in a loose half circle before the corpse, the last to arrive a woman in grey hooded robes, a black rope tied around her torso in a criss-cross pattern. She walked with steady intent, the visible lower half of her face quite expressionless. Her hands remained before her hidden in the heavy sleeves. She moved silently to a position just behind Mazhd’s right shoulder. He didn’t turn to acknowledge her and Borze shivered inwardly, managing to avoid an actual twitch with the exertion of some self-control. It was only the third time in his life he had seen Living Memory and, although there was nothing overt to cause alarm, the notion of what the woman was slid through him like icy knives. He could not quite bring himself to believe that she was nothing but a machine now, personal memories gone, nothing but a meat server. She looked too much like someone. He glanced at Mazhd whose face was too grounded in his own personal pain to reveal a special relationship between him and the thing standing behind him. He must, Borze assumed, know she was there without having to look. Shrazade would have sent her to record the events in every detail. Only Living Memory was able to capture everything within its perception without a flaw. Their recall was faultless no matter how many times they were required to provide it telepathically to other infomancers. The record was processed and studied later by others who still had a mind with which to do it.
The Empress’ chamber doors opened and all heads turned in that direction. It was not customary to kneel, although Borze always felt that regardless of how they stood they were all, in fact, prostrated before the presence. Their actual posture was merely an incidental detail. They could feel her before she arrived, like a soft storm in their blood and bones.
Shamuit Torada wore a ceremonial robe and headdress of mourning grey shot with borders and panels of scarlet. Her face was covered in a half veil of translucent grey stitched with silver thread in a design of dragons that weighted it down until the hem brushed her chest. The veil’s bridge where it sat across her nose and cheeks was a fine filigree of silver wire. Above this shining line her grey eyes looked out from a painted shroud of much darker grey that ran in a bar across her face from temple to temple. Black liner made those eyes larger, wider, full of rain. Behind her, Hakka bore his polearm in its battle regalia, tasselled and knotted. He was tall enough to look directly over her head and Borze shrank inwardly from the strange, bitter intent of his gaze that stared into the room as if at nothing. For a moment he made eye contact with his counterpart, Jago, and even Borze felt the resentment there drop the atmosphere before the Empress ascended the throne and claimed all awareness for her own.
She glanced down at the corpse below her feet and then around the circle at each person present before her voice, calm and glassy, cut the air up into pieces. ‘Minister Alide, you come before Us accused of treason. What say you?’
Alide was calm, from his own conviction or from her command it was hard to tell. He held his hands out, palm forward. ‘I am innocent, Majesty.’
‘We do not have time for a civilised pursuit of the truth,’ Torada said. ‘You will remain silent as Lawyer Shan presents her evidence and Mazhd reveals the accusations laid against you and then you will provide a full explanation. Fail to do so immediately and I will insist that the infomancers perform a full reading. Lawyer Shan, proceed with your statement and leave out the preamble. This is a War Court and all common legal protections are hereby suspended at my pleasure.’
The lawyer opened her document and studied it for a moment before she spoke. ‘The Ministry of Defence has allowed the infiltration of the city of Glimshard by hostile foreign agents. Minister Alide has personally had contact with several of these agents and has taken receipt of goods from them. Minister Alide has overseen the construction of engineering works at the relic site known as Dig 241 and has failed to protect the information coming from the works. Minister Alide has failed to report military threats exceeding native resistance at Dig 241. The Defence Ministry has extorted and bribed Glimshard citizens in order to develop weapons of mass destruction without the consent or knowledge of the throne for purposes which must therefore be considered against the Reigning Interest. Minister Alide and the Defence Ministry have permitted the access of assassins into the palace and failed to prevent their attack on the Imperial Person knowingly and wantonly in the hopes of obtaining a coup.’ She finished and looked up before stepping around the body and presenting her paper to the Empress. ‘This is a list of names of all those suspected of collusion in the matters.’
The Empress took the paper and handed it to Hakka without glancing at it. He passed it immediately to Borze who took it dumbly as the Empress spoke to him.
‘Arrest and detain all of them if they are not already in custody. Question the foreigners and have them read if they refuse. Those that survive are to be expelled from the city. Citizens may remain silent but they will be imprisoned in isolation unless they prove themselves innocent.’
Borze glanced down and saw the list. It was long. He put the paper into his jacket pocket with his head bowed, thankful for it as he felt the Imperial attention shift to Alide. A sense of grinding inevitability made him want to run out of there even though it wasn’t him under that scrutiny. He didn’t like Alide but he knew him well enough to pray that he didn’t make her prompt him for his explanation. Torada, he had lately come to understand, he didn’t know at all. Until now she had been the model of sweet, caring governance of a kind he had never previously imagined. But he had been a fool to think she was not fully an Empress with every bit of ruthless intelligence that implied. They all had been. When he did look up, against his will, he saw that Alide had drawn the same conclusion and was appalled by it. It wasn’t blithe ignorance that had allowed events to fall this way, but calculation. He wondered, as Alide opened his mouth, how long Torada had known and laid in wait.
‘I am innoce
nt of all charges and of any complicity or acts of omission with regard to this assassination attempt,’ Alide said steadily. His face was tightly drawn back. Borze recognised it and thought, ‘Backs to the wall, eh?’
At a glance the lawyer almost cut him off with her statement. ‘The Empress is already advised of evidence we have uncovered that suggests Defence was ineffective at preventing infiltration of the city in the previous month leading to this attempt. The infomancers in particular have recordings that confirm you have been trading in antihypnotic drugs specifically geared to allowing you to move independently of the Empress’ Influence and that these have been provided by Spire agents.’ She indicated the grey-robed woman behind Mazhd.
Borze watched as Alide’s narrow mouth thinned to a near lipless line. ‘My choices began long ago with the refusal of the throne to supply materials and engineers for the storm gun. They were later increased by the arrival and tolerance of the Karoo… Consort. And by the refusal to install military rule across the Steppe as I had advised. In the authority over these acts I counter that it is the Empress herself with her excessive inexperience, her licentious and wanton choices, her frivolous pursuit of everything strange and abominable, who stands in a state of high treason to the Empire. Our present state of secession stands in proof of my statements and all of my actions have been within my role to preserve and protect the Empire.’
The Empress spoke quietly, looking down at the broken body. ‘It is not I who overreaches herself in the pursuit of independence and power. And I had my part in your situation. It was my weakness that made Spire think of you when she was looking for someone to use. But it was yours to accept her propositions. However, you leave me in a difficult position. I should kill you now. But then I lose your expertise, which I badly need. Tell me, Minister. If you were me, what would you do to defend Glimshard?’
Alide raised himself a few inches and Borze wondered if he sensed reprieve. For his own part the general felt none of that in the air as everyone hung on the softly spoken words.
‘I would offer Spire control of the site in exchange for military support and the immediate withdrawal of hostilities – a return to the status quo the Empire has enjoyed for the last two hundred years. With both armies we could defeat the opportunists, establish a solid control of the Steppes and the south and hold off the Karoo until the site has been fully exploited. Unified with them, whatever one’s personal feelings, we are much stronger.’
Whatever her view on this they did not hear it because at that moment a runner appeared, accompanied by a man in Glimshard military regalia, or what was left of it. The runner, incongruously small beside his bloodied and filthy armoured mass, helped him across the smooth tile floor until he was close enough to make his report. The Empress showed no offence; runners were permitted anywhere at anytime as they saw fit.
The soldier saluted Borze and began talking at a babble they could not understand. It took several minutes and a strong drink before he made sense. When he did Borze had to question him closely to prevent him rambling off all the time about monsters and the ‘creeping ground’ – material that was luridly affecting but in no way useful. They learned then that the tribes on the forest borderlands had seen the thinning of Glimshard forces and had launched a major assault in concert upon the small outpost by the dig and the one holding the area around the portal in an effort to seize control of it. Some of them had carried Spire banners and they had been armed with Imperial crossbows and grenades. To defend themselves the Fourth and Twelfth Units had used the special weapons Alide had been safeguarding there, but something had gone amiss without ‘proper’ supervision and the devastation that ensued had awoken the wrath of the Karoo, bringing some fatal assault down on all their heads. Both sides of the original conflict were devastated and had fled the field. The portal had been ordered destroyed.
The man sank to the floor, murmuring about the world being on fire.
‘Meantime, Majesty, the Spire army is sighted on the Uplands Pike at Two Birds Pass,’ the runner said as the soldier collapsed slowly into a heap and she was forced to let him or fall herself.
Torada looked at Alide from the grey band of her sadness. ‘Glimshard is in far greater danger from within the Empire than from without.’
‘In that, Majesty, you refer to yourself and the city as one. But that is a temporary and unfortunate union which the righteous Empire itself by nature seeks to correct.’
Borze felt his eyes widen at the other man’s presumption.
‘I do refer to us as one,’ the Empress said. ‘Because that is what we are. Much as you are now expendable to me personally I cannot afford to lose your experience and your strategic knowledge. Since I cannot trust you, you will serve General Borze henceforth as his automaton.’
‘No!’ Alide’s sudden cry brought the tip of the polearm’s razored blade to his throat so that he froze in place as the Empress’ arm came up. For a moment she rested her hand on the side of his face, as if in a tender gesture, and under her touch his terror and repulsion eased and passed away until he was perfectly composed.
Borze swallowed and found his throat resistant and dry. He knew that appearances were deceiving here. Alide, whatever he had been a moment ago, was now much less; his autonomy was gone. He might not be as reduced as Living Memory, but he was not far from it. Borze thought execution would have been far kinder, but it was war. Without a word or a glance of reproach Alide moved to Borze’s side.
Torada turned to him and he endeavoured to stand tall and strong under her inspection. ‘Go and take personal command of the portal site. Secure it and then do the same for the dig. Recover the storm guns and their materials.’ Without a pause she looked towards Zharazin Mazhd.
‘I understand the Huntingore girl was kidnapped,’ she said. ‘I trust your agents will be able to track her progress. Meanwhile you are to shadow the other one in case further Spire operatives are in the city. Go immediately and tell her that the time has come to act on the commands I have already given her. Assist her and give her whatever she needs for the task.’ She gave them all a sweeping glance. ‘Give the orders throughout the city to batten down. You have at best an hour to perform whatever tasks remain before we depart. Anyone who finds themselves in Alide’s position is free to leave the city or suffer a change of heart. As of now treasonous actions are subject to immediate and permanent exile. Borze, you will oversee this, and that includes any mercenaries who find my coin insufficient persuasion.’ She turned to Alide. ‘What do you say to this?’
Alide responded with pleasant interest, as though he was glad simply to have been asked. The change in him filled Borze with a low-grade nausea. ‘You should kill them, Majesty. Arming your enemies makes no sense.’
‘And what should I have done with you?’
‘Possibly the same. The loyalties of the living are never certain.’
‘Mazhd tells me that you and I would never see eye to eye on anything. Our conformation is against it. You are much more suited to a creature like Spire. It is a pity for you that you ended here but you will not be sent to better pastures until your use to me is done. If you do well I will restore you.’
‘I have no desire for restoration,’ he replied, as calm as a still pool.
She smiled and, Borze thought, suppressed a giggle. ‘No, of course you don’t. Even so.’ Her smile vanished as fast as it had come. ‘To your business. runner, ensure the city gates are open until the tolling of the Academy Bells. Mazhd, remain.’
Borze saluted and made to walk out. He was halfway to the door by the time he realised that he was alone. He turned and saw Alide standing exactly where he had left him, the same idiotic peaceable expression on his pinched features. A glance at Mazhd showed no visible communication between him and his grim companion but this would not do for Alide, apparently. Borze would have to shout or backtrack but Gau Tam’s propriety saved him, the officer tugging Alide’s sleeve and muttering, ‘This way. You must accompany the general.’
Torada waited for them to leave, watching their backs until the guard outside closed the chamber doors behind Borze, then she turned to the body and stretched out the toe of her slippered foot to touch it, feeling its dull resistance, before looking up at Zharazin Mazhd. ‘Eyes of Shrazade, can you read anything out of this?’
She studied him as he approached, feeling only cold interest as one mental adept to another. He was a curiosity – it was rare to find mages outside cities, particularly those with odd or doubled talents. She knew that he read blood as well as mind, had pondered the wisdom of leaving him with Shrazade but eventually allowed it to continue with the understanding that he was not permitted to speak of any blood visions to any except her own trusted advisers. At the moment, she felt inclined to trust none but to alter matters, even to kill him, would have been to broadcast her insecurity and so she merely watched him, her mental awareness reaching out to test his own. Her mind was closed to the Empresses now and in doing so she felt anger at her own eagerness to end the silence and sense of isolation. If Mazhd even noticed her she would have committed a serious failure, of power if not etiquette. But he seemed not to sense her slowly encompass him and she didn’t push her luck, stopping as soon as she felt within range to read him.
She felt Mazhd struggle with the pain of his wound as he knelt down to the body and put his hand down to its head. Repulsion was his major reaction, which she shared, though if he had been able to touch her she felt sure her rage would overpower him and send him into a frenzy of destruction on the corpse in her stead. The idea had its attraction but she preferred to model the simple calculated calm of her new confidante, Isabeau Huntingore. She was grateful at this moment to be able to duplicate the peculiar inner state of the engineer and allow it to run proceedings instead of her natural self, whose desires were only vengeful and shortsighted. She felt the traces of movement within her arm and face as Mazhd’s face contorted with effort and distaste and it was all she could do to avoid copying Isabeau’s curiosity too and plunging into him to discover how he worked, what he did, what it felt like to connect directly to the flesh of that cold, dead killer.
Glorious Angels Page 33