Herine jerked in her throne. She looked away from Potharin and to the Gatherer delegation.
'Clear the Prima Chamber,' she said. 'And summon the Advocacy guard to secure the person of the Advocate.'
She gazed out at the ranks of delegates, sitting in mute shock at her words.
'We'll see who is failing. And then we'll see who survives the reckoning. The Senate is dissolved. Get out.'
Chapter Thirty-Two
859th cycle of God, 36th day of Genasrise
'Ossacer Westfallen,' said Felice Koroyan, rolling his name around her tongue. 'The fly seeks mercy from the spider. The enemy walks into the halls of the righteous, seeking redemption.'
‘I am neither fly, nor enemy of the Omniscient, Chancellor,' said Ossacer quietly. He knew he'd have to ride out a level of provocation. It was just a question of time. 'Not today. I never have been. I have never wanted to be.'
Koroyan closed the door to the room and walked in a few paces. She didn't approach too close and made no attempt to sit down. Nor did she motion for Ossacer to make himself comfortable.
'You were born my enemy. And with every breath you take you become more so. With every action, you taint the face of God the Omniscient.' Koroyan made the encompassing gesture of the Omniscient over her chest. 'Your presence here is an affront to every citizen in the Conquord.'
She was a powerful figure. Ossacer hadn't really considered it before. She had come into the room alone, utterly confident in herself despite the potential danger in which she placed herself. And she filled the room with her presence. Ossacer couldn't help but be impressed. Her aura pulsed strength. It was deep green, shot with modulating browns, and it touched walls, floor and expanded well beyond, connecting to everyone and everything beyond her current space.
If only she knew how beautiful it looked. How absolutely right it was that she was the head of the Order. All for reasons she would dismiss and consider heresy.
‘I have only ever sought to do God's work on this earth. Blessed by my talents and mindful of my responsibility. And I am here in that capacity today.'
'Responsibility.' The Chancellor shook her head and jabbed a finger out of the door. 'Gorian is out there and his version of responsibility means we face invasion.'
'That is Gorian. It is not me. It is not the rest of us.'
'You are the most consummate of deceivers. Even more so than your bastard brother because you use silence and your apparent disability to garner sympathy. It is mind control. I should have you killed and burned where you stand.'
'And I will not stop you.' Ossacer put his hands down by his sides. 'But first, I ask you to hear me.'
The Chancellor smiled and threw up her hands.
'Of course, why not?' She walked towards a recliner and sat down, leaning against an end cushion. 'After all, I am but the Chancellor of the Order of the Omniscient. What else could I possibly desire other than to chatter with my mortal enemies?'
She linked her fingers in prim fashion and placed them in her lap. Ossacer so nearly lost his temper.
‘I would have thought your most profound desire would be to protect your devotees from threat, death and the ending of their cycles under God.'
‘I have many duties,' said the Chancellor. 'More than you could possibly imagine.'
'Then let me help you stop an inevitable conflict becoming a horrific slaughter where friend and enemy alike will be destroyed with no chance of ever feeling the embrace of God.'
Koroyan waved a hand impatiently. 'War is a necessity. If the Tsardon come at us their destruction is on the conscience of their priests. It does not concern me how they make peace with their false gods.'
if the rumours are true, if the knowledge I have and the path I have foreseen it will take prove accurate, then most of those who come at us will not be Tsardon. They will be Conquord citizens, ripped from the clutches of God and sent back to shatter the Conquord they once loved.'
The Chancellor laughed. 'You know, it is funny, it really is. The Advocate is forever warning me about my supposedly over-dramatic delivery. Presumably she welcomes yours. Still, at least you have my attention. All I need now is to understand what on God's good earth you are talking about. So speak, Ossacer Westfallen. And then we shall discuss your particular crimes.'
Ossacer nodded. She couldn't keep him here against his will. Perhaps she didn't realise that. She could shoot him dead with arrows but if she chose to imprison him, it would prove a mistake.
'It is quite simple, though you may not choose to believe me. Gorian, we believe, has found a way to reanimate the dead and send them against us.'
'Wait wait stop!' The Chancellor shot to her feet. 'What is this poison? Even for an Ascendant, that statement is an admission of ultimate guilt. You can raise the dead? You want me to believe that?'
Ossacer felt nerves surfacing once again and his stomach turned over. 'I want you to believe that there are rumours, substantiated by witnesses I have spoken to, that Gorian can do this. Not us, Gorian. We, the real Ascendants, are sworn to stop him. We have to kill him.'
'Well there we can agree.' Koroyan walked around the room, shaking her head. 'What ... I can't ...' Eventually she stopped walking and gathered herself. 'Gorian can make the dead walk?'
'So we believe.'
'Right. Stop there. This is heresy of the most heinous kind.' 'I agree—'
'Silence,' she spat. 'How can I believe this? I woke to this morning and drank in the beauty of God's earth and scant hours later you walk in and tell me there is a rot at large that seeks to steal God's people from him. It is preposterous. Why should I believe you? And why should I not just have you put to death here and now. Never mind your latest utterance. I have twenty years of crimes on the books with which to condemn you.'
'Why would I come here, to your house, merely to spout lies and put my life at risk?'
The Chancellor considered that and inclined her head. The anger seemed to drain from her. She returned to the recliner and sat.
'Why must we meddle? The Omniscient provides all that we need every day we draw breath. And when we die, our reward for a life of faith is to know the embrace of our God until He decides we should return to do His work once more. You. You Ascendants, more than any damned scientist, seek to undermine that. And yet you still claim faith.'
'I need your help,' said Ossacer quietly. 'Judge me, judge us, another day.'
'Help?' There were tears in the Chancellor's eyes. 'You would destroy my faith and that of millions and you ask for my help? What would you have me do, Ossacer?'
Ossacer was confused. The anger he understood. This was most unexpected.
'Help us not to make the situation worse. You have the ear of the citizenry. They need to know that the Ascendants and the scientists are being pressured into using explosion and fire to bring down our enemies. I cannot countenance it. I will do nothing that harms another person, I will only help and heal. For that I am barred from the classroom. The public can stop us burning the Conquord dead. Stop us scattering their ashes to the wind like convicted murderers denied the continuance of their cycles. Help us find Gorian. They won't believe me. They will believe you.'
The Chancellor's expression cleared.
'Go back to the Hill and make your peace with God. Despite your words, I cannot believe we share the same one. But you, I can at least respect for the possession of a conscience. You think you are clever, coming here. That this will somehow change my view of the Ascendancy and its place in this world. That perhaps I might even forgive you.
'But you are mistaken, Ossacer. You have seen in this room the depth of my belief and my despair. And now you will see the depth of my anger. Go. And if you take my advice, you will remove yourself from this life before the flames find you.'
'What are they doing to me? To our Conquord?'
Herine could hear the pleading in her voice but no longer cared. She had retired to her private reception rooms in the Prima Chamber. Guards stood on every door, while
the Gatherers were working through the accounts submitted by Phaskar and Tundarra. And with Herine were Tuline and Arvan Vasselis. It didn't matter if she cried in front of either of them.
'They are frightened, Herine,' said Vasselis. 'They do what we all do, look to their own.'
'I don't.' Herine beat her chest. 'My own is the whole Conquord. And so is theirs. Have I taught them nothing? Has my family really been stitching together a cloak of lies to cover the thoughts of traitors? Estorea has given them everything they have today. Now they turn and I do not even know why. Ten years ago I would have understood.
But today, the threat is as much rumour as it is substance.'
'They simply aren't ready, or don't think they are,' said Vasselis. 'They believe their enemies are beginning to close in and they have lost f—'
She gazed at him.
'You can say it, Arvan. Faith. Where did I go wrong? Are the Ascendants to blame?'
'Why would you think that?' asked Vasselis.
'Because if there is one point when history sees my rule slip, it will be when I welcomed them in and made them a part of the Advocacy, despite the religious confusion it caused.'
'I disagree. Tsard came back before we were ready. Had they waited another two years, there would be no such questions. Don't kill yourself over things you cannot change. Think on what you can. There are states loyal to you. We've had representations from Avarn, Neratharn, Gosland and Atreska in this past hour. We are still strong.' Vasselis gripped her arm. In his eyes, there was a flicker of the past.
'But where is Gestern? Where is Katrin Mardov?'
'We all know Katrin. None of her travelling delegation have arrived. It can only be something has delayed her. Pray that it is not what we fear is coming.'
Herine nodded. 'Damn them. Can you believe Tundarra? Potharin is like an uncle. Or he was. He is sworn protector of Roberto. And he's betrayed us.'
'It is difficult to comprehend,' agreed Vasselis.
'Isn't it just. And he, Dornos, Phaskar, Morasia ... they will all come to understand their error. I want every loyal Conquord official out of those countries and back in Estorr at the soonest. I want borders closed. I want trade halted. I want them to understand what isolation from the Conquord means. I will bankrupt them all. Break them.'
'You can't do that, Mother,' said Tuline.
Herine drained her goblet of wine. 'Can't I?'
'No,' said Tuline.
Herine blinked. She looked at her daughter. Tall, compared to Herine. A little plain, too. But slender and regal, with those piercing dark eyes that all the Del Aglios women possessed. The red veil fell from Herine's eyes. A shudder ran through her. She frowned.
'Why can't I?"
Tuline smoothed down her toga, stood up and walked to a set of shelves near the table around which they sat. She returned with a thick sheaf of papers.
'This is why,' she said, dropping them on the table. A dull thud rattled the crockery.
'I'm not going to do the thing you want me to,' said Herine. 'Just tell me and don't make a meal of it.'
'I was getting reports and rumours as soon as the mobilisation orders went out. The standing delegates here at the palace, the Tundarrans, Phaskareen and Morasians in particular were making disgruntled noises. But there was an arrogance about them. They were talking together and you didn't need to hear what they said to know their collective state of mind.'
Tuline began to spread out the papers.
'This is detail, and I don't think it is exhaustive, of every contract we have with the rebel states, if I can term them that.'
'It is a more polite term than I would choose but it will serve,' said Herine.
She was staring at her daughter with new eyes and when she caught Vasselis's gaze, he raised his eyebrows and she smiled, feeling a growing pride. Tuline kept her head down, looking at the contracts.
'We have deals for iron and steel from Morasia. The finest horse breeders beyond Caraduk and Estorea are all in Phaskar, as you know. We buy a lot of horses from them. Tundarran timber and cloth is the best outside of Sirrane. Their leather goods are pretty good too. Then there are the arable fields of northern Phaskar, the livestock drivers of the Tundarran plains and the—'
'All right, all right, I get it,' said Herine. 'But I will not deny you your moment of glory, dear daughter, so say it.'
'What?'
The look of innocence on Tuline's face was comical. 'Just say what it was you were going to.'
'If we are going to fight and win the coming war, we cannot break off trading or diplomatic relations with these people. And they know it.'
Herine threw up her hands. 'So how the hell am I going to satisfy my anger and lust for revenge?
It was a moment before Tuline realised she was joking and burst out laughing.
'Well I don't know, Mother. I said we couldn't break off relations.
I didn't say we had to make it easy. They may know we need them. But we know that they need us too. Right now, this is a unity of desperation.'
'There's something else too,' said Vasselis. 'Diminished though we may be temporarily, the Conquord commands an awful lot more muscle than they do, even should they combine, which they won't. We could, if we wanted, invade any one of them and they could not stand before us.'
'But we won't do that,' said Herine. 'Come on.'
'They don't know that. And there's no harm in dropping hints of a questionable accuracy, now is there?' Vasselis smiled. 'Enough to gorge your anger on?'
'For now,' said Herine. 'And thank you, Arvan.'
'And just think,' said Tuline. 'The rebels are gambling on a lengthy conflict leaving us committed along two thousand miles of borders with Tsard. Consider where it leaves us if we can win this war quickly.'
'Tuline, you have grown today more than in any other day of your life on this earth. I have always been proud you are my daughter but today, you have proved my faith in you and that is a greater gift than you know.'
Tuline blushed and Herine leaned across to plant a kiss on her forehead.
'Orders, my Advocate?' asked Vasselis.
'Get me an aggregate of what we do have, where it is and where it is going. I need it for dawn tomorrow when we three are all leaving to return to Estorr, where we will meet our Marshal General and, with any luck, Paul Jhered carrying Gorian's head on a plate.
'Let's win this war quickly, eh? I've got revenge to consider.'
Chapter Thirty-Three
859th cycle of God, 36th day of Genasrise
'Julius!' Roberto's voice echoed across the bleak face of the crag. 'Hang on. Don't fall now. Don't let go. The Omniscient will give you strength.'
Julius Barias was weakening. His position was difficult and draining. Roberto's fingers, hands and feet were on fire but he knew he could hang on. Julius was clinging to the crag face across the path from Roberto. Both men were fifteen feet from the ground. When the wave of disease or whatever it was, had washed up the slope and the panic around the crag path had dissolved into bloodshed, he had yelled for any who would hear him to climb the rock.
Ten or more had followed his lead. Three had fallen back and had died choking on spores and filth. He and Julius had clung on and climbed as far as they could. The other five, Dahnishev and four medics, had been far more fortunate, finding a ledge and secure foot and handholds. They waited twenty feet above and to Roberto's right. Roberto had refused their offers of help.
The scene at the base of the path and up inside it had been dreadful. It would live with Roberto for the rest of his life. Experienced legionaries chopping down their comrades and scrambling over their bodies to get to the path. Hauling off those already on the ropes to clear a space for themselves. Only one voice had tried to maintain order. Pavel Nunan. Roberto had seen him engulfed by his own legionaries.
And then the wave had struck them all. It had washed over those trapped on the ground and grabbed up higher and higher on the path, consuming men and women who were crammed together as t
hey tried to get away. But the Work could not jump the gap between living and dead. It did not climb the bare rock. Silence had fallen broken only by the desperate scrambling of the survivors higher up the path.
The shouts of those on the crag reached them a little later, exhorting them to hold on, that help would come. That had been two hours ago and it had become clear to Roberto that there was not enough rope to lower down to them and he had forbidden them to descend the path to use the rope still set there.
'I can't,' said Julius, desperate and terrified.
'You can,' said Roberto. 'Yes, you can. Remember how you want me tried by you in the presence of the Advocate? Remember that? Use it, Julius. Don't you give up.'
Roberto had his face flat against the rock. He looked across the path and at the Speaker. Julius was staring at him, not knowing what to think or say.
'It doesn't matter now,' he said eventually.
'It does if it keeps you hanging on there. They'll move on soon and then we can move. Want to stop me burning more of your flock? Then hang on.'
Julius smiled, laughed. It was an incongruous expression and sound. 'You're provoking me.'
'Trying to,' said Roberto. 'Anger gives strength and determination.' 'I've misjudged you,' he said.
'I doubt it, Julius. My position hasn't changed. Neither has yours.' Roberto flexed a cramping finger. He dare not move his feet. The crack into which he'd pressed his toes was tiny and dusty. Slippery. 'But right now, we need every man and woman to live. That includes you and me. Don't become one of them, Julius, or I'll want to burn you too.'
The dead were walking across the ruined ground. The rising stench was eye-watering, appalling. It was like something five days dead in the heat. Rank odours floated from the rotten ground. Flies had begun to gather. Tsardon and Conquord dead gathered as they rose. Those Roberto had managed to glimpse were covered in boils and sores and with a sickly green tinge to their skins. When they exhaled, clouds of spores spewed out.
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