‘Laodoc,’ Killop said, as the old man stepped out onto the courtyard, the last to leave. Killop’s eyes scanned the empty carriage, his hopes sinking.
Karalyn started to cry and he picked her up.
Laodoc approached, flanked by imperial troopers.
‘Chief Killop,’ he said, his expression drawn and exhausted.
‘Where’s Daphne?’
Laodoc’s face fell, and Karalyn’s cries grew louder.
‘It’s all right, wee bear,’ Killop said, rocking her in his arms.
‘She didn’t make it on board,’ Laodoc said. ‘She stayed behind to fight off Old Free rebels, so that we could leave.’
‘You left her?’
An imperial officer stepped forward, a tall Holdings man.
‘We had to,’ he said. ‘The carriage was already airborne when she tried to board, and we couldn’t turn round for her. It would have been suicide.’
‘Who the fuck are you?’ Killop said.
‘Ahh, I’m Lieutenant…’
‘I don’t care,’ Killop said, staring at the troopers. ‘Did anyone see what happened to Daphne after you took off?’
‘She ran, sir,’ a young Holdings woman said. ‘I saw her run for a tunnel.’
‘She was still alive?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Killop puffed out his cheeks, his heart hammering. He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to force calm thoughts through his mind, as Karalyn continued to cry on his shoulder, tears and snot covering her face.
‘I’m sorry,’ Laodoc said. ‘Truly. She saved my life from Old Free assassins, and led me to safety.’
Killop said nothing.
‘Shall we go inside?’ said Draewyn. ‘You look like you all could do with some breakfast.’
‘That would be wonderful, ma’am,’ the lieutenant said.
Draewyn smiled, and gestured at the troopers to enter the mansion.
‘There’s a dining hall on the right as you go in,’ she said. ‘Get yourself seated, and I’ll speak to the kitchen.’
Killop opened his eyes. The troopers were filing past him and Karalyn, following Draewyn inside.
Laodoc remained. ‘We should talk, Killop. Urgently.’
He nodded. ‘Let’s find Bridget.’
Killop left Draewyn to look after the troopers downstairs and helped Laodoc up the steps to the upper floor of the mansion, where Bridget was pulling on her boots.
‘I’m nearly ready, Chief,’ she cried. ‘Just a second…’ She tailed off as she saw Laodoc.
‘Good morning Bridget,’ he said.
‘Fuck me,’ she said. ‘The chancellor.’ She looked from Killop to the old Rahain. ‘I’m going to assume you’re not here to wish us a happy Winter’s Day.’
‘Is Bedig in there?’ Killop asked, nodding at her bedroom door. ‘I need him to watch Karalyn for a bit.’
‘Aye,’ she grinned.
The old Rahain tried to smile. ‘I never would have thought of you and Bedig together.’
‘Why not?’ Bridget frowned.
Laodoc went red.
She laughed, then stood and went to her door.
‘Take a seat,’ Killop said to Laodoc, while he rubbed Karalyn’s back. Her cries had stopped, but she was still sniffing and whispering ‘mama’ in his ear.
Bridget came back out of her room with Bedig, who was wearing a pair of shorts and tying back his unruly red hair. He saw Karalyn and held out his arms.
Killop passed his daughter to him.
He gazed at Laodoc.
‘Might I get angry with what you have to say?’
Laodoc nodded.
Killop glanced back at Bedig. ‘Best you take her into another room.’
‘Aye, Chief,’ Bedig said. He faced the child in his arms. ‘Come on, wee one, let’s go and play. You’ll see daddy again soon.’
When they had gone, Killop poured some estate wine into three glasses, and sat down next to Bridget and Laodoc.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Let’s talk.’
Food was brought up, and while they ate Laodoc told them what had happened in the city over the previous day and night. Bridget and Killop listened in silence as the old man described the attack by the assassins, and his rescue by Daphne.
When he had finished, Killop stared at his plate and said nothing.
‘This is fucked up,’ Bridget said. ‘The Old Free rebels are in charge of the capital? Where’s the imperial army?’
‘Still over a hundred miles away,’ said Laodoc. ‘Fifteen days from here, perhaps.’
‘And the other cities? Tahrana?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What about the old alliance army?’ she went on. ‘Is it still in the Plateau?’
‘They’ve got their hands full fighting the Sanang insurgency,’ Laodoc said. ‘Last I heard, they had been moved up to the old frontier wall on the Sanang border, in the far north-west of the Plateau. They won’t be coming to reinforce us any time soon, I’m afraid.’
‘Slateford is at risk,’ Bridget said, sipping her wine. ‘Do they plan on attacking?’
‘I think that would be a foolish move on their part,’ he said, ‘but one never knows with Douanna.’
‘And the ex-slaves in the city, the New Free?’ she said. ‘You mentioned massacres?’
‘Angry, fearful peasants, taking what they think is revenge on the freed slaves,’ Laodoc said, shaking his head. ‘Fed lies by the Old Free, encouraged into believing that if the ex-slaves win, then they must be the losers, instead of understanding that abolishing slavery benefits everyone. The great masses of ex-slaves in the city are my hope. They will not go back into chains again. Douanna and the Old Free will have a harder time controlling them than they think.’
‘I’m going to get Daphne,’ said Killop, standing.
‘What?’ Bridget said.
‘I’m taking the flying carriage back to the city,’ he said. ‘I’m going to get her.’
‘But the city is enormous,’ Laodoc said. ‘How will you know where to begin looking?’
Killop shrugged.
‘Let’s think this through,’ Bridget said. ‘We could get a squad together quickly, send them in. Kalden would be the most qualified to lead, no offence. Leave it to the professionals.’
‘Not good enough,’ he said, turning for the door. ‘I’m going.’
‘Killop, wait!’ Bridget cried. ‘Stop. Give it a minute’s thought. I know you’re worried, and hurting, but Daphne knows what she’s doing.’
He opened the door.
‘At least take a squad with you,’ Bridget yelled. ‘What about Karalyn? What are we supposed to tell her?’
Killop stopped, torn between leaving and staying.
As Bridget was sidling up to him, there was a cry from downstairs, then frantic shouting.
Killop ran for the steps, and bounded down them, Bridget close behind. They reached the ground floor, and saw Draewyn sprawled on the stone tiles.
‘Bastards pushed me over,’ she groaned.
Killop sprinted to the front door as Bridget helped Draewyn to her feet. He ran through the open entrance and into the courtyard as the carriage lifted off the ground ahead of him, the four winged gaien re-attached by chains. They were beating their great scaly wings as they soared up into the sky. In the courtyard, Kellach militia were standing, staring upwards.
‘What the fuck, squad leader?’ Killop shouted.
‘The Holdings troopers, boss,’ she said, her eyes down. ‘Couple of them said they needed to get their things from the carriage and went outside. A few minutes later the rest of them got up, and when Draewyn tried to stop them, they shoved her out of the way and ran for it. By the time we got out here they were already closing the hatch.’
Killop said nothing, his eyes fixed on the carriage as it flew away to the north.
‘I didn’t think they’d trick us, boss,’ the squad leader said. ‘It’s my fault, I’m sorry.’
He heard Bri
dget come up alongside him, and glanced at her. She was trying to conceal her relief as she gazed up at the shrinking speck in the sky.
Without a word, he turned, and went back into the mansion.
Sunset came early on the shortest day in the Rahain highlands, and the courtyard lamps were lit for the Winter’s Day feast. It seemed like half the clan had arrived, crowding out the square, and the bottom floor of the mansion, as the kitchens worked flat out to keep everyone fed.
Brodie had supplied dozens of barrels of estate wine. It was much too young, he had said, but with no one buying it he didn’t want to see it go to waste. Everyone’s hangovers from the previous evening had vanished as the Kellach gathered for their second night of drinking, and as Killop sat down with Bridget and Bedig, a messenger arrived.
‘Chief,’ he bowed. ‘A delegation from the Old Free rebels has arrived at the border post, with a flag of truce. They’re asking to speak with you.’
‘Just as the party’s starting?’ Bridget said. ‘Inconsiderate bastards.’
Killop looked up at the clear sky.
‘Shall we walk?’ he said, rising.
‘Aye, may as well,’ Bridget said.
‘Bedig,’ Killop said. ‘Could you…?’
‘Sure boss,’ he said. ‘I’ll watch her.’
‘She has to go to bed in an hour,’ Killop said, kissing Karalyn on the head. ‘Night-night, wee bear.’
‘Dada go?’
‘Aye. I’ll be back soon, but.’
Bridget called for a squad to accompany them, and they left the crowded square, and went down to the road by the river. The seven stars were shining bright in the dark heavens, reflecting off the slow-moving waters, as Killop and Bridget led the squad towards the town.
‘About before,’ Bridget said. ‘I know you want to rescue Daphne from the city, but if anyone can survive there, it’s her. She knows all the sneaky places to hide. Remember when she took us through the tunnels under the Senate?’
‘I hate being helpless,’ he said. ‘She’ll know I didn’t even try to find her.’
‘You have to look after Karalyn. Daphne’ll understand.’
‘When we meet these Old Free rebels,’ he said, ‘I’m tempted to demand that she’s delivered to us safely.’
‘What?’ Bridget cried. ‘Are you crazy? Don’t give those bastards any advantage they can use against us. If they know you want her, they’ll try to keep her as a hostage, or worse.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.’
They carried on in silence for a while.
‘How was Laodoc when you left him?’ Bridget said.
‘Sleeping,’ Killop said. ‘I asked him if he wanted to come down for the feast, but he was exhausted. I put him in Lilyann’s old room, and he went straight to bed.’
‘Poor sod,’ Bridget said. ‘He had an impossible job.’
‘And we don’t mention him to the Old Free either.’
Bridget smiled. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’
They passed through Slateford Town, where a number of Winter’s Day feasts and celebrations were taking place. Kellach filled the streets, and every tavern was full. Killop took the road out of town, and into the cleared border area. The forest ahead loomed a deep black, and they made for the torches of the Kellach militia, who were standing next to a group of Rahain.
Kalden turned and saw Killop approach.
‘Chief,’ he said.
Killop glanced at the rebel Rahain. Two were in robes, and the other four wore army uniforms.
‘This is Chief Killop of the Severed Clan,’ Bridget said. ‘I’m the clan herald. What do you want?’
‘We wish to talk, Herald,’ said the taller of the two robed men. ‘I am Pleonim, and this is Ruellap. We are members of the new government of Rahain.’
‘The usurping government,’ Bridget said.
‘The re-establishment of the legitimate republic, madam,’ Pleonim said. ‘As such, we regard ourselves as the true government.’
‘We’ll just have to disagree on that.’
‘As you wish, Herald. Might we go somewhere more comfortable to talk?’
‘Just the six of you?’ Bridget said, staring at the soldiers in brown uniform.
‘Yes,’ Pleonim said. ‘We trust that you will obey the laws of courtesy and not kill us.’
‘Come on,’ she said.
Kalden and the militia stood back as Killop and Bridget led the Rahain towards a nearby guard tower, the squad from the mansion following.
There was a large chamber on the ground floor of the tower being warmed by a huge open fire. The militia occupying it were sent off to the town to enjoy the holiday, and Bridget showed the Rahain to seats around a table. She and Killop sat opposite them as a serving boy set out jugs and mugs.
‘Help yourselves,’ Bridget said.
‘Thank you,’ said Pleonim, and poured wine for himself and his colleague. The four Rahain guards drank nothing, and sat at the table in a brooding silence.
‘Let’s get started,’ Bridget said. ‘You first.’
Pleonim nodded and cleared his throat.
‘We have been sent here by the new chancellor of the republic, Lady Douanna,’ he began. ‘We understand that our side, the “Old Free” as we are known, and the estate of Slateford, have not been friends. And why would we be? We represent the forces that conquered your land and enslaved your people. It seems quite fitting and natural that you should feel enmity towards us. And yet, in the main, there have been no hostilities between us. Yet.
‘Chancellor Douanna is nothing if not practical. She and her government have been weighing up our strategic options. Obviously, we cannot accept the independent sovereign status that the traitor chancellor Laodoc bestowed upon you. The republic of Rahain is inviolate, and cannot be split. Nevertheless, Chancellor Douanna is prepared to offer you, the chief of the Severed Clan, a full and binding peace treaty.’
Bridget snorted. ‘Peace?’
‘Yes, Herald, peace,’ Pleonim went on. ‘Our government recognises that the situation has fundamentally altered with the introduction of the Holdings religion into Rahain. The wicked missionaries of the One True Path have spread their lies throughout the population of northern Rahain, and the disease has especially infected the former slave classes. Only in the south, where our rule continued uninterrupted, and here inside this estate, has anywhere resisted the epidemic of creator fanaticism. From this we have formed some hopeful conclusions.’
He put down his mug. ‘The old struggles have lost their meaning. Our quarrel with you pales into insignificance with the real threat that faces us both.’
‘What threat?’ Bridget said.
‘The followers of the false creator god are single-minded,’ Pleonim said. ‘The war that is coming will be between those that follow the Holdings church, and those who refuse to surrender their will to a fake prophet and his deluded dogma. Therefore, Chancellor Douanna wishes to prevent any conflict between our government and Slateford, in order that we may both steel ourselves for the struggles to come.’
Bridget smirked. ‘Is it not just because you know we’d kick your arse?’
Pleonim smiled, while his colleague frowned.
‘You’re quiet,’ Bridget said to him. ‘What’s your name again?’
‘Ruellap,’ he said, ‘and I am forcing myself to remain silent, lest my anger ruin these talks.’
Bridget laughed. ‘At least you’re honest. What is it in particular that you’re so worked up about?’
Ruellap gazed down at the table.
‘It’s personal,’ he said, ‘which is why I felt it inappropriate to mention. However, as you have asked, it’s because this estate used to belong to my family and, well, I don’t like you being here.’
Killop glanced over at him. ‘Are you related to the old chancellor?’
‘I’m his son.’
‘Likiat’s brother?’
‘Yes,’ Ruellap said, ‘a
nd I know you were responsible for his death. Another reason for my anger.’
Bridget frowned. ‘I’m not sure you were such a good choice to be sent as a negotiator.’
‘He’s perfect,’ Pleonim said. ‘Chancellor Douanna judged that you would take his presence as a sign of our trust and goodwill.’
She shrugged. ‘So what else does this peace treaty entail?’
‘Simply an agreement not to initiate hostilities against each other.’
‘That it?’
Pleonim spread out his palms. ‘We’re here to talk. Tell us what you want.’
‘All the Kellach slaves freed, for a start,’ Killop said.
Pleonim smiled and withdrew a scroll from his robes. He cracked open the seal and passed it to them.
‘The chancellor had this ordinance drawn up this morning,’ he said. ‘A proclamation guaranteeing the manumission of all remaining Kellach Brigdomin slaves within the Rahain republic, to be completed within two years.’
Killop scanned the document, then passed it to Bridget.
‘This is worthless,’ she said. ‘A promise only. Here’s what I think. You lot have problems piled high at your door. The folk in the capital are mostly worshippers of the Creator from what I hear, and I doubt they’ve welcomed your return with flowers and parties. The imperial army is getting closer every day, and the last thing you need are the uppity savages in Slateford pissing in your breakfast. What can we do to shut them up? I know, write some shit down that we’ll never have to actually do, and maybe they’ll buy it.’ She smirked. ‘Am I close?’
Ruellap looked ready to explode, but Pleonim took a sip of wine and smiled.
‘That was indeed an excellent summary of our position.’
Ruellap stared at his colleague in fury.
Pleonim sighed. ‘Honesty,’ he said. ‘It’s the only way to get what we want. They’re not stupid, but let’s hope they’re pragmatic.’
He turned back to Killop and Bridget.
‘What else do you want? I’ve been honest with you, now be honest with me. What would it take?’
‘These are our conditions for a truce,’ Bridget said. ‘Not a peace treaty, mind. Just a truce. First, remove all the roadblocks and let trade resume. Second, find buyers for all of Slateford’s excess produce. Third, free all your slaves immediately, fourth, reinstate Laodoc as chancellor, and fifth, kiss my arse.’
The Magelands Box Set Page 125