He sipped his brandy. ‘Good night, Niuma.’
She laughed, and stood. ‘Always knew you were soft at heart. Your sons must have their mother to thank for their courage, for it certainly didn’t come from you.’
She walked from the alcove, leaving Laodoc to his brandy, the dim shadows reflecting his mood.
Did he believe what he had said in his speech? It was true that he had stood several times in the council chamber over the last third, delivering the lines the Liberals had fed him, as part of the deal when he had joined, and accepted their protection. They had been just words, words he hadn’t thought too deeply about.
Nevertheless, his convictions were starting to change, but from a different source altogether. For the last two thirds he had been spending more time working on the academy’s new faculty, than worrying about politics. It had taken much longer than he had assumed to convert the upper storey of the northern wing of his mansion into a secure holding area for the three Kellach Brigdomin slaves. And it had cost him a small fortune for the building work, and to endow the faculty with books and materials, hire guards, and appoint a new professor. It had been twenty days before the captives had been able to move in.
Since that time however, the reports of their progress had astonished him, and he had the budding idea that his new faculty might develop into the foremost academic department specialising in the language, culture and history of the Kellach Brigdomin. For now, he assumed, no one else was interested, and he detected no other academies, schools or research institutes looking into this field of study. If he could somehow publish their initial research within a year, and thereby set the standard textbook on the subject, the fame of the academy would only increase his own prestige, as part of his long-planned bid for the High Senate.
He had read a portion of the translated and transcribed poems and stories from the collection that Simiona was compiling. Some he found interesting, such as their rudimentary origin stories, which appeared to contain echoes of the catastrophes that had assailed the world at the time of the Collision. Others had touched his heart, such as the ballads from the mountain-dwelling hunters and trappers, romantic tales of lost love and the mysterious bond that seemed to exist between brothers and sisters.
One thing was certain, he realised. He was no longer looking upon the Kellach Brigdomin as dumb brutes, as animals to be controlled. They had had their own civilisation, though backward and primitive, and the Rahain had destroyed it. His people. For what? More coal, iron, gold, timber, copper, and all of the other resources they were going to systematically strip from the Kellach lands? The war coalition had portrayed the native inhabitants as no better than animals, who happened to be in the way of progress. And when animals bit back, you struck them down.
The Slave Bill that had banned the use of the Kellach as house slaves had been cleverer than Laodoc had suspected at the time. For it was not solely, as it had been advertised, to protect Rahain civilians from the dangerous, murderous savages, but it was also to ensure that there were no opportunities for the foreign slaves to be seen as anything but animals, removed as they were from the cities, and placed to work in remote areas, in appalling conditions, labouring like beasts of burden.
He recalled the words that the frightening, dark-skinned woman from the Holdings had shouted at him, when she had visited with the trader. Although he had no desire to ever meet her again, a tiny part of him wished that she could see how the three Kellach slaves were faring, now that they were living in Laodoc’s mansion. She would probably still disapprove, he reflected.
‘No slaves in the Holdings.’
Foolish utopian dreamers. Nature pointed the way to the best solution, it was right before their eyes. Mages and their kin ruled Rahain, their powers and abilities making it obvious that nature had favoured them. The rest of society, they were there to be ruled, and guided, and protected, for there was also a responsibility to the lower orders, one that seemed to be ignored in the confusion of the Holdings constitution. An egalitarian-religious-monarchy, he laughed. What a foolish and irrational nation.
‘Here you are,’ a voice said. ‘Hiding away in a corner, grinning to yourself.’
Laodoc looked up. It was Pleonim, with a couple of other Liberals, Wyenna and Nueillin.
‘Mind if we join you?’
‘Please do,’ he said, signalling a waiter.
‘You’ve got guts,’ Wyenna said as she sat. ‘Must have been hard to say what you did about your sons in the chamber tonight.’
‘They are grown men, my good woman,’ he replied, directing the waiter to set glasses and pour wine. ‘I’m sure they know it’s just politics.’
‘Never mind that,’ Nueillin broke in. ‘Laodoc, did you notice who was missing from the chamber tonight?’
He considered. The votes had tallied up to ninety-six, whereas a full council contained one hundred members. Two of the missing were long-term vacancies to replace deaths from old age earlier in the year, for which applications were being narrowed down before a final vote. One of the other two spaces on the benches was more recent, caused by the death of a Patriot by the name of Heoran, who had drunkenly drowned in his bath almost a third before. That left one. Laodoc pondered, remembering how the council benches had been filled that evening.
‘Myella, the Conservative,’ he said, to nods from the others. ‘I don’t recall seeing her this evening.’
‘We just heard,’ Nueillin whispered, leaning in close across the table, ‘that she was found dead in her rooms.’
‘What?’ Laodoc asked, his eyes wide. ‘When?’
‘Just now,’ Pleonim replied. ‘After the session ended, some of her fellows went up to see why she hadn’t attended, and found her collapsed on the floor.’
‘A heart attack?’
‘No,’ Wyenna said. ‘Murdered.’
‘Oh my,’ Laodoc said. ‘I’m shocked, but not, I must confess, completely surprised. I know she had her enemies.’
‘I can think of at least half a dozen people who wanted her dead,’ Nueillin said. ‘She was a known blackmailer and extortionist, who held several of the City Council in her pocket, not to mention at least two of the High Senate.’
‘And a couple of Liberals…’ Laodoc added.
‘You knew about her?’ Pleonim asked him.
‘Oh come on,’ Laodoc said. ‘I’m not completely addled.’
‘Well,’ Wyenna said, ‘I’ll bet you didn’t know that she controlled at least two of your old Hedgers, including Riomac, your erstwhile deputy.’
Laodoc’s face fell. ‘He was working for her?’
Pleonim nodded, a smug smile on his lips.
Laodoc shook his head in disappointment.
‘How exactly did Councillor Myella die?’ he asked.
‘I believe she was struck with a knife,’ Pleonim said. ‘In the head.’
‘Oh dear,’ he said, suppressing a slight smile. ‘Have there been any arrests?’
‘None so far,’ Wyenna replied. ‘There will be a thorough investigation, I’m sure.’
‘It must have been someone on the inside,’ Nueillin said. ‘No one else has access to the members’ private rooms.’
‘So there could be a murderer in our very midst?’ Laodoc said. ‘How barbaric.’
‘That reminds me,’ Wyenna said. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask what happened to your academy’s resident barbarians. My cousin’s daughter attends, as you know, and she told me that the savages have been removed, after they caused a ruckus a while back.’
‘Really? I didn’t know that,’ Nueillin said. ‘Did they harm anyone?’
‘A couple of guards got knocked about a little,’ Laodoc said. ‘Nothing serious, but I felt it best if the academy’s specimens were placed in a more secure environment.’
‘So your school is still experimenting on them?’ Pleonim said. ‘Whatever do you think you might learn from such savage beasts?’
‘The purpose of the research is to learn more about our
selves,’ Laodoc said, ‘by holding the Kellach Brigdomin up as a comparison.’
‘Sounds like a waste of time,’ Pleonim smiled. ‘And money.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ he said. ‘It is rather an expensive hobby.’
‘Some spend their wealth on wine,’ Pleonim said, laughing. ‘I suppose spending it on a school is no more foolish.’
‘He can afford it,’ Wyenna chuckled. ‘All those coal mines…’
‘It does put you in a tricky position, however,’ Nueillin said, ‘as regards your sons. It would appear that the worse they do, the richer you get. And if they were to succeed…’
Her voice tailed off.
Laodoc sighed. ‘Then we all lose.’
Chapter 10
Ash
Basalt Desert, between Arakhanah and Rahain Republic – 30th Day, Last Third Summer 504
‘I wish we’d never left, Shella,’ Clodi sobbed, as they crouched in the darkness of her cramped tent. ‘This is a nightmare.’
Shella hugged her weeping sister, biting down her impatience.
‘I want to go home!’ Clodi cried.
‘We’re going to our new home,’ Shella whispered. ‘You’ll see.’
‘No, we’re all going to die in this horrible wasteland.’
‘We shall pass through it,’ Shella said, worried that she was starting to sound like Obli. ‘We will find a green land with broad rivers beyond.’
‘Do you really believe that, Shella?’
‘Of course I do,’ she lied.
Clodi’s sobs quietened to a sniff. ‘Sorry, Shella,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I feel so low, like this is never going to end.’
‘I know,’ she replied. ‘Look, will you be okay? I have to get back to work.’
‘Sorry,’ Clodi repeated. ‘You’ve probably got a hundred important things you need to be doing, and here I am, being stupid as usual.’
‘No you’re not,’ Shella said. ‘Look, I’ll come and check on you later, see if you’re okay.’ She kissed Clodi on the forehead and crawled to the tent’s entrance. ‘Bye, Clodi,’ she said as she left.
Outside, she stood up, her boots crunching on the black basalt beneath her feet. She gazed up into the morning skies, looking for clouds, but seeing none.
‘Fuck,’ she said.
The pair of militia guards that escorted her everywhere got to their feet from where they had been sitting by the tent.
‘Miss,’ one nodded to her.
‘Jayki,’ she replied. ‘Braga. Let’s go.’
They followed her between the lines of shabby tents, across the hard, dry, black volcanic rock, that stretched for miles in every direction. To her left was the rising sun, shining low over the vast reaches of the endless ocean to the east. On her other side loomed the smoking bulk of the great volcano in the distance. Lava flows of centuries past had spilled their way down the eastern slopes of the peak, creating a vast desolate landscape of black, inhospitable rock; barren, dust-blown and lifeless. Between the volcano and the ocean nothing lived, nothing apart from the hundreds of thousands of Rakanese migrants, choking with thirst as they snaked their way southwards.
As they approached the inner circle of command tents, she saw her brother Pavu jog towards her.
‘We have a situation, Shella,’ he said, panting as he reached her.
‘What is it now?’
‘Possible riot brewing in Willowbrook camp,’ he said. ‘Didn’t take kindly to having their water ration cut.’
‘So?’ she muttered. ‘The gangs there are always fighting.’
‘Sami and Klebo are cut off right in the middle of it,’ he said, as they walked to the largest tent in the inner circle.
‘What were those idiots doing in Willowbrook?’ she snapped. Her brothers should have known better than to go into one of the most gang-infested camps, named, as they all were, after the migrants’ home district. Willowbrook was an enormous, densely populated slum in the east of the city centre back in Arakhanah, notorious for its violence and squalor.
‘They were supposedly negotiating with the camp’s leaders,’ Pavu said, keeping up with her. ‘Over what I don’t know. It certainly wasn’t me who authorised the trip.’
She halted, as she realised what needed to be done.
‘Will you go?’ he asked her.
‘Are there no other flow mages available?’
‘None at your level, sorry,’ he said. ‘They’re all still exhausted from yesterday’s attempted cloud-gathering.’
A knot of stress grew in the pit of her stomach.
‘I don’t think I can do this any more, Pavu.’
He took her hand.
‘You must,’ he said. ‘If you don’t, we’ll have to send in the militia, and many more will die, innocents, guards, possibly Sami and Klebo.’
She felt disgusted.
‘I’m not made for this.’
‘What kind of person would you be if you enjoyed it?’ he asked. ‘I’m glad you hate it, for it shows you are still the same Shella, that you haven’t changed.’
He’s wrong, she thought. She wasn’t the same.
‘Let’s go, then,’ she said.
Pavu had assembled a whole company of armed militia, numbering about two hundred. They all wore dark red shirts and black kilts, and carried batons and shields. They were a nasty bunch, mostly made up of thugs and bullies who had got lucky. They were fierce in their loyalty to Obli, cherishing her with a devotion bordering on worship. Most of the officers behaved obsequiously to Shella and Pavu, the kind of toadying little sycophants that she felt ashamed to be associated with.
The company marched out, with Pavu and Shella walking near the head of the column. They passed by the ragged and dirty camps of several districts on the way, while their occupants watched them warily from the shadows of their tents.
Willowbrook camp was a chaotic, sprawling mess of wagons, luggage, crates, tents and people. A large crowd had formed on what passed for the main road through the camp, bordered on either side by rows of hastily assembled wooden buildings, constructed from dismantled water-wagons from when they had stopped a few days before. The mob were attacking the structures, ripping them apart with their hands, shouting with rage.
‘They’re wrecking their own camp,’ Shella sighed.
‘They must think there’s water inside,’ Pavu said. ‘Instead, it’s our foolish brothers.’
He turned to the column behind him.
‘Form up!’ he bellowed, and the guards of Obli’s militia shuffled into position, making a wedge shape, pointed at the crowd.
‘Targets are in the main building to the left ahead,’ he shouted. ‘Once the mage has cleared the way, go straight in, secure the hostages, and get out again.’
He turned to Shella. ‘Ready?’
She nodded. ‘Come on, boys,’ she said to Jayki and Braga, who trailed along after her as she walked out from among the guards towards the mob, a hundred yards away.
‘I enjoy this bit,’ she heard Jayki say in a low voice behind her.
‘Which bit?’ Braga replied in a whisper. ‘Watching rioters’ heads go pop, or checking out the mage’s ass?’
‘Both,’ Jayki laughed.
‘Do you think I’m fucking deaf?’ she snapped back, without turning her head.
‘Sorry, miss,’ they mumbled.
When they got within twenty paces of the mob, she halted. Many had turned to look at them, and some were already starting to run, seeing Shella, and recognising her.
‘Do the honours, please Jayki,’ she said.
The guard stepped forward.
‘Clear the streets!’ he yelled. ‘We have a mage!’
The effect was instant. Screams rose, and people broke from the mob, fleeing down the road in the opposite direction from where Shella stood. She readied herself, her right hand raised. Usually there were a few brave idiots: the young, the ignorant, or those who had never witnessed what a high mage could do.
She sighed a
s she saw them approach, a knot of youths, who stared at her, then charged, jumping over the debris littering the street, while others around them continued to scatter.
Shella concentrated, focussing on the six rioters in the lead row of the mob rushing towards her. She reached out, sensing the fluids pumping through their bodies, and, with a sudden sweep of her hand, she pushed the liquid powerfully up into their brains, felling the six, blood bursting from their nostrils, eyes and ears, their corpses convulsing on the basalt rock.
The other charging rioters stopped, staring with horror at the shaking, bloody bodies of those fallen at their feet. Shella raised her arm again, while Jayki bared his teeth and growled, ‘Want some more?’
The rioters fled, leaving the road deserted within seconds.
Shella lowered her arm, as the company of guards moved up past her, jogging towards the largest wooden structure alongside the road.
‘Good job,’ Pavu said, as he drew up next to her. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Knackered,’ she replied. ‘And sick. As usual.’
They watched as the militia raided the building, emerging a few minutes later with Sami, Klebo, and half a dozen others.
‘Sorry, sis,’ Sami said as they reached her.
‘What were you idiots thinking?’
‘That’ll have to wait, Shella,’ Pavu said, as the militia assembled around them. ‘Let’s get out of here first.’
Pavu gave the order, and the column started jogging back towards the command tents at the head of the great camp.
Shella looked back as they moved off, seeing the lifeless and bloody bodies of the six young Rakanese that she had killed, sprawled out across the dark rock.
Another small piece of her lay dead with them.
‘I’ve already said I’m sorry, Shella,’ Sami muttered. ‘I didn’t know what was going to happen, that you’d have to… you know.’
The Magelands Box Set Page 13