The Magelands Box Set

by Christopher Mitchell

‘Fellow councillors,’ Yaelli said, ‘the parlous state of the city’s coffers demands that we act with a certain prudence. Production is down, trade is down, taxes are up, and our economy is stretched and fragile. In short, we are all feeling the squeeze. While I agree with the necessity of everything my esteemed colleague has just proposed, I would ask that we add an amendment, to limit the emergency committee’s requisition and mobilisation powers to a single third, upon completion of which, the law will automatically lapse, unless we vote again on that date to continue it. This is a wholly precautionary measure, to allow this august chamber to sensibly evaluate the powers of the new committee, and modify them if necessary.’

  Yaelli sat, to a smattering of light applause.

  ‘That’s it?’ Laodoc whispered to Wyenna. ‘That’s all the Merchants are asking for? The siege must be costing them a fortune.’

  ‘They’re too browbeaten to put up any resistance,’ she replied. ‘And if you think that’s bad, just listen to what our own party is about to propose.’

  She quietened, just as the Liberal Nueillin was selected to speak.

  ‘My fellow councillors,’ she said, ‘we here on these opposition benches will not stand in the way of the will of the council, and will not vote against such emergency measures as proposed. We will, however, be offering our support to the amendment from the Merchant Party. An automatic expiry date for the suggested committee will give everyone time for reflection.’

  She sat, her contribution almost ignored by the ranks of Patriots and Conservatives, who were chatting amongst themselves.

  Wyenna gave a told-you-so smirk to Laodoc, who sat in silence, anger building within him.

  ‘This is what it’s been like,’ she whispered, ‘ever since you were arrested.’

  Ziane rose to speak again.

  ‘Lord Speaker,’ he said, ‘I am happy to humbly yield to Councillor Yaelli’s amendment, and incorporate it into my own proposal.’

  ‘Very well,’ the lord speaker said. ‘Is there a dissenter?’

  No one rose.

  ‘Councillor Ziane’s proposal,’ the lord speaker boomed out, ‘as amended by Councillor Yaelli, is therefore carried without dissent. Private property laws in the city are hereby suspended for one third, and all productive capacity and means are now under the direct control of this council, until a standing requisition and mobilisation committee can be established. The debate to discuss said committee’s remit and membership will be held as the first item of business at tomorrow’s session. Please come prepared.’

  He looked out over the councillors, as they began gossiping about who should be on the committee.

  ‘This session continues,’ he called out. ‘Who is looking to speak?’

  Laodoc rose, along with a dozen others, among them Ziane.

  When the veteran Conservative saw Laodoc standing, he smiled, nodded, and returned to his seat. Taking his cue, the others started to sit as well. The lord speaker pretended to examine his fingernails, until Laodoc was the only one left on his feet. The speaker smiled, and gave him the nod.

  ‘Thank you, Lord Speaker,’ Laodoc said, taking some time to gaze at the expectant faces around the chamber. ‘It has truly been a privilege, and a great honour, to serve in this fine institution, alongside such noble and excellent colleagues, both on this side of the chamber, and on the other.’

  There was much smiling and nodding, and many councillors settled down to listen.

  ‘There are too many names to mention each one individually,’ he continued, ‘but my highest praise and respect is extended to Councillor Ziane, the father of this chamber. It will not be long, I believe, before his talents take him all the way to the High Senate.’ There was applause, and a beaming Ziane got his back thoroughly slapped by his fellows. ‘And, of course,’ Laodoc went on, ‘what kind of father would I be, if I failed to commend the excellent performance of my own son, Councillor Ruellap. A man with a great future ahead of him, if only he can avoid his old man’s mistakes.’

  There was generous laughter at this. Laodoc noticed that while the Patriots and Conservatives were lapping it up, many Merchants and Liberals were frowning. He paused, surprised. He had assumed everyone wanted him to go. He looked over the Merchant benches. Some of his old Hedgers were shaking their heads at him, while Douanna sat in their midst, grinning.

  His mind went blank, his mouth dry and sour. Killop was free, and that was good, but Simi was still dead, and nothing could change that.

  ‘I have, unfortunately,’ he began again, ‘made several mistakes. Not many get the opportunity to stand in front of their peers and colleagues, and apologise for their errors, and so I count myself fortunate that I am able to do so today.’

  The chamber quietened.

  ‘I have three apologies to make,’ Laodoc said, with all eyes upon him. ‘The first is to the slaves of Rahain. What arrogance, to imagine that almost one half of the population should be owned by the other half.’ The faces of the councillors changed to puzzlement. ‘What stupidity, to deny almost half the population any say in their own lives, to cut short their potential, and treat them as if they were gaien. Or worse.’

  Some voices started to call out against him, but most sat still in silence, hoping the old man would rant for a minute, then retire.

  ‘I apologise to all the slaves of Rahain,’ Laodoc proclaimed, ‘for centuries of abuse, cruelty and degradation at the hands of people like myself. For those who say that it is our tradition, I say, take a look at the other nations on this continent. The Holdings are every bit as civilised as ourselves, and they see no need for slavery. In fact, they despise it, and rightly so. The Kellach Brigdomin did not even know the word for slavery before we invaded them, though I’m sure they are well acquainted with its meaning now. Even the Rakanese see slavery as beneath them. We should join the ranks of the truly civilised, and utterly and irreversibly abolish slavery.’

  The looks of anger and contempt came from across the council chamber, as all pretence at listening politely was abandoned.

  ‘My second apology is to those Kellach Brigdomin I just mentioned,’ Laodoc went on, ‘or, as I should more correctly state, the Kell, the Lach, the Brig, and the Domm. We committed a savage and barbaric act of unprovoked aggression on one of our neighbours, so we could open up a few more coal mines. Is it any wonder the other nations fear us? Or hate us? Release the Kellach captives, I say! Give each one an apology and a bag of gold, and let them return to their lands, or stay here, if they prefer.’

  The noise in the chamber increased, as did the level of anger aimed at him. He revelled in it, enjoying the hatred rolling in waves from the Patriots and Conservative ranks. Even Douanna looked annoyed.

  ‘Let him finish!’ the lord speaker shouted.

  ‘My third, and final apology,’ Laodoc shouted through the noise as the lord speaker banged his fist.

  ‘I said let him finish,’ the lord speaker roared, ‘or face immediate ejection from this chamber!’

  The noise died down.

  ‘My thanks, Lord Speaker, as always,’ Laodoc said. His chest swelled with pride, and he held his head high. ‘As I was saying, my third apology is to the Rakanese, who came here, barefoot and starving, having endured unimaginable torment crossing the Basalt Desert. It was a poignant and beautiful opportunity, for us Rahain as a nation, to prove to the others that we were not savages, no matter the crimes we had committed against the Kellach Brigdomin. It was a chance to redeem ourselves, and make a new ally.

  ‘Instead, we built a wall, and plotted to annihilate a third of a million refugees. We are savages.’

  There was uproar. Several councillors from the Patriot Party got to their feet, threatening him, and shouting. Pleonim, sitting to his side, stared up at him open-mouthed. Wyenna was smiling however, and nodding, urging him to continue.

  The lord speaker whispered to a clerk of the chamber, who ran to the door. Moments later, a dozen guards trooped in, and formed up before the speaker’s pla
tform.

  The chamber quietened again.

  The lord speaker nodded. ‘I trust that you can all see these soldiers standing here? Good. Next to speak out of line shall be escorted from the premises.’ He turned to Laodoc. ‘Councillor, am I to assume that you have nearly reached the conclusion of your peroration?’

  ‘Indeed,’ Laodoc replied. ‘I am almost there.’

  ‘Then,’ the lord speaker waved at him, ‘please continue.’

  ‘I have a few more words, directed to those sat here,’ Laodoc said, looking over the crowd of councillors. ‘I will not waste my breath on the Patriots, abhorrent as they are, and opposed to everything I stand for. There is also little hope for the Conservatives, ridden as they are with fear, apathy, loathing and a smug self-satisfaction. Maybe once that oaf Ziane has gone, there might be hope for some fresh thinking, but until then…’

  A few Liberals laughed, as the veteran Conservative sat fuming.

  ‘To the Merchants, however,’ Laodoc said, turning to them, ‘I say this. Why are you continuing to follow a policy that is ruining you? The folly of the Patriots, and the fear of the Conservatives, is bankrupting this country. Are there any of you, sitting here today, whose businesses are not suffering? What will it take before you realise that you are the fools of this whole game?

  ‘And,’ he turned to the Liberals, ‘to my own party, I simply shake my head in sorrow. A friend once said to me that he believed the Liberals knew in their hearts what to do, but they were cowards who could not find the courage to stand by their ideals. Your pathetic capitulation today has confirmed for me the truth of this opinion.

  ‘It is with a sad heart, therefore,’ Laodoc said, as the chamber sat in seething silence, ‘that I announce my resignation from the Liberal Party.’

  The faces stared at him, waiting.

  ‘I do not intend to retire,’ he proclaimed, to gasps of disbelief and cries of rage. ‘Instead,’ he went on, as pandemonium erupted, ‘I will start my own party, based on the principles I have espoused in this speech…’ He paused, as the volume of noise grew too loud to be overheard. Several Patriots were rushing across the floor towards him, while a few Liberals gathered round protectively. He saw the lord speaker shouting at the guards, and they barged their way through the crowd.

  Wyenna grabbed his arm.

  ‘Come on!’ she shouted.

  The guards reached them, and formed a ring around Laodoc, as punches flew. Two of his old Hedgers were attacking a Patriot who had been trying to grab a Liberal, who, oblivious, was shouting insults at the Conservatives.

  ‘Order!’ the lord speaker bellowed out. ‘Councillor Laodoc is hereby suspended for three days for provoking a disturbance. Guards, please escort him from this chamber, and off the premises. This session is now ended.’

  The guards started moving, pushing anyone who got in their way, as Laodoc was bundled from the council. The heavy doors of the chamber glided shut behind them, and the noise died away.

  Wyenna was still holding on to his arm, and was looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

  ‘That was amazing,’ she said, as they were marched through the long halls to the main entrance. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ziane that angry. Did you plan the whole thing?’

  He shook his head. ‘I walked in here today fully convinced I was going to retire. But, standing up there, seeing how pleased my enemies were by the prospect, I simply couldn’t do it.’

  ‘And are you serious about a new party?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Do you want any help?’

  ‘Are you offering to become my first member?’

  ‘I am.’

  Laodoc laughed. ‘Then welcome to the Radical Party.’

  Chapter 26

  The Heights

  Akhanawarah City, Rahain Republic – 16th Day, Second Third Spring 505

  Shella peered through the device Kylon called the lizardeye as she lay among the boulders dotting the dusty brown hillside, watching as ranks of Rahain soldiers marched through fields a little over a mile away. Above the lines of troops, the morning sun was starting to appear over the horizon.

  ‘Shit,’ she said. ‘That’s us completely surrounded then. They’ve closed off the eastern gap.’

  She passed the viewing-tube to Polli, who lay next to her.

  As her assistant took her turn to look, Kylon turned to Shella.

  ‘We can still get through their lines over the northern hills,’ he said, ‘if we keep the numbers low. Their pickets are thinly spread in places.’

  ‘Not much good for bringing in wagons of supplies, though,’ Shella replied. ‘Since they dammed the river, the road east was our main way of bringing food in.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to eat less,’ Kylon shrugged.

  ‘That’ll go down well,’ she snorted. ‘Another cut in rations, so soon after the last one? How long can the Rahain keep this up? There must be over a hundred thousand of the fuckers out there.’

  ‘Not losing confidence?’

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘We’re still going to win. But it’s going to get messy.’

  ‘It already is.’

  She nodded.

  ‘They’ve stopped,’ Polli said. ‘Looks like they’re forming a front line.’

  ‘Give me that,’ Shella snapped, grabbing the lizardeye.

  Her assistant was right. The Rahain soldiers had halted two hundred yards in front of the city’s eastern defences, and were digging along a line a mile and a half in length, all the way from the hillside to the river.

  She sighed, then turned to her right.

  ‘Might as well check out the southern front while we’re up here,’ she said.

  She scanned past the buildings clustered on the southern bank, and out to the fields beyond, now churned into acres of thick mud by days of incessant catapult fire. She had built her defensive lines out past the rice-fields, and the smaller orchards that lay on the drier ground to the west. Ten thousand labourers had been working in shifts on the whole line down there, building a thick maze of ditches, trenches, brick walls, pits, canals and palisades, but the Rahain army had arrived before it could be completed. The makeshift fortifications had served their purpose however, as two full divisions of Rahain troops had been enticed in, only to become bogged down in the muddy and confused front lines.

  In her attempt to protect the main food-producing areas within the defensive perimeter, she had unwittingly created a vast sea of mud, some four miles long and two deep, pounded day and night by Rahain throwing machines. It hadn’t done much good for the food supply, but it had created an effective defensive barrier. If there was a full-scale assault from that direction, the Rahain would drown in the mud by the thousand.

  From the hillside she could see a constant but low-level bustle of violent activity, as archers shot crossbows from hidden locations deep in the mud, hitting exposed soldiers on both sides. There was a fight going on over the possession of a small brick bunker, while, all around, enormous boulders smashed into the ripped-up earth, gouging great holes that soon filled with water.

  The stream that had fed the rice-fields was still flowing down from the southern hills, but it disappeared into a hundred channels as it passed through the frontlines, saturating the whole area between the Rahain army and the river.

  The river itself, however, was dry.

  It had been eight days since Shella had first noticed that the level of the river was falling. Three days after that, it had ceased altogether. Shella had ordered every cistern filled, and every sluice gate closed, to preserve all they had. Several wells had also been constructed, reaching down through thick layers of clay to the water table beneath. It was tight, but with strict rationing, and some luck with the weather, there should be enough for everyone.

  The spawn pools had been prioritised, and each had their own dedicated wells, including one in the palace, where Queen Obli was now the proud mother of nine royal spawn, whom she fed daily while they swam in the
warmth of the pool. The queen had not left the palace since before her spawning, and had made no public comment about the newly elected democratic government of the city.

  Shella lowered the lizardeye.

  ‘What now, Commander?’ asked Polli.

  ‘Best report to the ministry,’ she said, turning to go.

  ‘I liked it better when you were in charge,’ Kylon muttered, as he followed her down the hill. ‘Those idiots your people elected are already making a mess of things.’

  ‘Democracy is shit,’ Shella said. ‘Only marginally less shit than the alternatives. And, I’m still the high mage, and the commander of the new army, and of all the defences, so it’s not like I’ve sunk back into blissful obscurity.’

  At the bottom of the hill was a new food silo, ringed by housing that was thickly occupied despite being only half-finished. There were a few tents left over from when all domestic building had ceased, and work on the defensive lines and fortified positions had begun.

  Her brown-uniformed soldiers, volunteers in her new army, guarded the silo, each with a short bow, a flint-tipped pike and a shield. With the entire city focussed on war production, weapons had been constructed in their thousands, supplemented by every Rahain crossbow or sword they could get their hands on. There were now fifty thousand in uniform, five divisions, each assigned to a sector of the city, two on the more densely populated northern bank, and three engaged in the skirmishing on the mudflats making up their southern flank. Hundreds more men and women were joining up daily, and were rushed through a harsh five-day training programme devised by the Kellach Brigdomin. If they were lucky, they got the northern bank, if not, the mud.

  They saluted her as she passed the silo, and she nodded back.

  She had given away her power, but she knew she could take it back any time she needed to.

  ‘I’m pretty sure Leah fancies you,’ Shella said, her glass of rice-sprits held out in her right hand.

  ‘She doesn’t,’ Kylon muttered.

  ‘Well,’ Shella went on. ‘What about Kilynn? I mean, I know she never seems to leave her brother’s side… What’s all that about?’ She squinted at Kylon, but he ignored her. ‘Anyway, I’m sure she’d make a good lover for you.’