The Covenant Rising

by Stan Nicholls

  “And you think you’ve found it.”

  “Yes. Many of us don’t want to be under the rule of either empire. Well, then, we won’t. We’ll take ourselves out of the picture.”

  “Life’s not a kids’ ball game. You can’t say you’re not playing anymore.”

  “We’re aware of that,” Karr replied, adding stingingly, “As are the families of many who have given their lives for the cause.”

  “All right, cheap gibe. Sorry. But what do you intend doing?”

  “Simply put: not to stay and fight, but to go.”

  “Go?” Kutch said, plainly confused. “Go where?”

  “Some place where we can concentrate our dissident forces and stand apart from the influence of both empires.”

  “That’s insane,” Caldason reckoned. “Where’s the sense in making sitting ducks of yourselves?”

  Karr was unruffled. “Remember the commune I took you to? They’re good people, but they got it wrong. You can’t be apart while surrounded by hostility. Not if you expect to prosper, anyway.”

  “Exactly my point.”

  “And you’re right. It was the lesson I hoped you’d take from the communards. Success or failure turns on location.”

  “I’d like to know how you expect to get around it.”

  “We’ve given this a lot of thought, Reeth, and while we’re not saying it would be easy, we think it can be done.” He leaned closer, elbows on the table, hands knitted. “Let me explain.”

  Phoenix raised a hand and stifled Karr’s flow. “Your pardon,” he said. “But before any more talk I thought refreshments might be in order.”

  Nobody objected, and he called in one of the grey-clad acolytes and instructed him. The man returned with the rest of his company, bearing platters and flasks. They laid bread, fruits and meat on the table, alongside wine, ale and water. Everybody helped themselves to food and drink. Caldason took only water.

  Karr sipped his wine and resumed. “Our original thought was to annex a chunk of land somewhere here in Bhealfa. Something remote, maybe with a shoreline. We rejected that quite early on, for obvious reasons.”

  “At least you had that much sense,” Caldason commented dryly.

  “Then we looked at the possibility of somewhere beyond these shores; part of another country. But of course we’d need control of the whole area we occupied. So it had to be an island.”

  “It may have escaped your attention, but we’re already on one.”

  “It can’t be Bhealfa,” Disgleirio told him. “There are too many forces to be overcome here. As well as being somewhat too large for our purposes at this stage.”

  “Wherever you choose you’d still face opposition on every side. More so on an island because you’d leave yourself open to being cut off and starved out.”

  “Not if we’re totally self-sufficient,” Karr said.

  “Do you really think the empires would leave you alone long enough to achieve that?”

  “We’re counting on them not knowing what we’re doing until it’s too late. This whole operation is being conducted in absolute secrecy.”

  “It’ll be a hard secret to keep, Patrician, given the number of people who’d have to be in on it.”

  “Just about everybody’s on a need to know basis. And the Resistance is organised on a cell system. There are plenty of cut-offs.”

  “All it takes is one captive with a vital piece of information being put to torture. Then the empires are going to piss on you from a very great height.”

  Disgleirio impaled a piece of meat. “Aren’t they doing that now, with our tacit connivance?”

  “Your longevity’s made a pessimist of you, Reeth,” Karr put in.

  “I prefer realist. More so than you, if you believe you can get away with a plan like this. You’re talking about nothing less than the creation of your own state.”

  “And a rallying point.”

  “Think of what a functioning state needs.” Caldason began counting off on his fingers. “An army, or at least a militia, to defend it; armourers, smiths, wheelwrights, farmers, herdsmen, butchers, bakers, builders, healers, tailors, cobblers, administrators inevitably, not to mention a navy to get everybody there and –’

  Karr held up his hands to quieten him. “Enough! You’re right, we’d need all those skills and more. Do you imagine we haven’t thought it through? This is the culmination of a lifetime’s work.”

  “Gods, man, how many people would it take to do this thing?”

  “That depends on where we do it. But many thousands, naturally. And those thousands are all about us, and willing.”

  “Perhaps Reeth’s right in doubting you can pull it off,” Kutch said, eyes shining, “but I think the idea’s… amazing.”

  “It does have a certain fascination, doesn’t it?” Karr allowed, grinning. “The sheer complexity of putting together something like this, something that’s never been done before, is intriguing. The puzzle-solving, the problems that have to be confronted; it’s all quite satisfying in its way.”

  Caldason seemed interested despite himself. “What about the intangibles? Politics, religion, that kind of thing.”

  “You see? It is an engaging subject. Would we have a state religion? Probably not. We’d leave that to individual preferences. What kind of political system would prevail? One with as much participation as possible by the citizens, obviously, though we’re still working on how we could achieve that.”

  “Some things you can’t plan for,” Disgleirio contributed. “Given the chance, people decide for themselves what sort of life they want.”

  “What about magic?” Caldason said.

  “What about it?” Phoenix asked.

  “Starting afresh would be a good opportunity to ditch it.”

  The magician couldn’t hide his dismay, or didn’t bother. “We’d as soon get by without water to drink,” he asserted, stern-faced.

  Karr attempted to smooth over the disagreement. “We all appreciate that magic has harmed you, Reeth, but you have to be realistic. It’s too fundamental a need.”

  “A need? I see it as fetters and chains. It doesn’t liberate; it reinforces bondage.”

  “Not everybody thinks like those communards. Or like you. To most people, magic’s a daily necessity, and we’re not about to deprive them of it. We’re trying to oppose a dictatorship, remember, not become one ourselves.”

  “You’re wrong about this. It’s doing people no favours.”

  Karr was growing irritated. “Its value as a weapon alone makes it a vital element in our defence. Would you have us stand unarmed against the sorcery of the empires?”

  “You’re not taking the neutrality of magic into account,” Kutch reminded Reeth. “You know it has no morality. Magic’s only as good or as bad as those who channel it. I think the Resistance can be trusted to use it virtuously.”

  Phoenix backed him. “Well said, lad.”

  “If magic wasn’t here in the first place,” Caldason responded, “there’d be no issue of whether it was used for good or ill.”

  “You could say the same about your swords,” the magician argued. “About all weapons. If they didn’t exist, where would the temptation to misuse them be?”

  “No,” Caldason stated flatly. “There’s something clean and honest about sharpened steel. Magic’s base deception, and corrupt.”

  “We’re not going to agree on this,” Karr decided. “Let’s drop the subject.”

  “So much for participation.”

  “If you feel so strongly about it,” the patrician snapped, “join us and work to change our minds. But for now, let it rest.”

  Caldason glared at him.

  Disgleirio noisily cleared his throat. The effect was theatrical, but it got everybody’s attention. “Time is short and we all have pressing business elsewhere. Not to mention the risk of staying here too long. So, unless there’s anything else to be said…’

  “Only this,” Karr replied. “When I took
my first uncertain steps in politics, I was lucky enough briefly to have a mentor. Old and venerable he was, yet he still burned with radical zeal. He told me, “Don’t do anything for history, for posterity. Do it for yourself, and for the benefit of others. Because no matter how big your gesture, even history will forget you in time.” That always struck me as a kind of truth, and I commend it to you all.” He turned his attention to Reeth and Kutch, and his usual ebullience seemed to be back. “There’s a lot more we could say about the plan, and we will. But now there are others I want you two to meet. It might make your decision about whether to join us a little bit easier. Are you game?”

  Karr, Reeth and Kutch made their farewells and left together, discreetly. A carriage was waiting for them close to the derelict warehouse. There was nothing special about it or its anonymous driver. It had blinds on its windows, which they left half-drawn.

  As they set off, Kutch asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Another safe house,” Karr said. “Well, not a house exactly. You’ll see.”

  “Is it far?”

  “Edge of the city. Shouldn’t take us too long.” His attention was on Valdarr’s bustling streets.

  Eventually the city began to blend into countryside. Roads gave way to tracks and houses were sparse.

  They came to a low hill; little more than a mound, in fact, and certainly man-made. Standing on its plateau was a windmill. It was very tall and white, though its paint was peeling. Its four great sails turned slowly in a light wind.

  “You conduct your business in some interesting places,” Caldason remarked.

  “Needs must,” Karr returned.

  The coach was dismissed and they crunched up the gravel path leading to the mill’s entrance. They heard the wind crackling the fabric covering the ribs on its sails. Wood creaked, and there was the low, rumbling sound of grinding cogwheels. When the trio reached level ground they saw that a cluster of squat outbuildings attended the mill.

  There were no obvious signs that they were being observed, yet Caldason wasn’t alone in feeling watched. With a gloved hand, Karr rapped loudly on the door’s sturdy planks. It was opened almost immediately, liberating a blast of mechanical noise. A company of armed guards met the visitors, and recognising Karr, waved them through.

  At the centre of the large circular room were three intermeshing toothed wheels, enormous and made of iron, which clacked and rumbled as they turned. The chamber was lit by glamour globes, lessening the risk of fire. A dozen or more hovered close to the high wooden ceiling, like bulbous, glowing fungi. Their intense light showed up the fine flour dust in the air.

  The place was crowded with people, their murmured conversations rivalling the machinery’s clamour. Most were men, of all ages, but there was a fair sprinkling of women and children. They sat on crates, heaps of sacks or the odd bench and chair. Many stood. Some of the youngsters were curled up on the floor, asleep.

  A woman emerged and made her way to Karr and the others. She was middle-aged and of a chunky build, with severe hair, and looked as hard as hell. But the smile she wore on seeing the patrician softened the effect.

  “This is Goyter,” Karr said. “She’s overseeing this little group.”

  He swapped greetings with her, then indicated his guests.

  If Caldason’s name meant anything to her, she didn’t blink. “Good to meet you both. Here for the investiture?”

  “Not as participants,” Karr answered for them. “But hopefully soon.”

  “Investiture?” Caldason queried.

  “Everybody here has been accepted for Resistance membership,” Goyter explained. “We make a small ceremony of the induction, to mark the event.”

  The Qalochian looked at the waiting conscripts. “The movement seems to attract a varied membership.”

  “Oppression casts a wide net,” Karr replied. “Some are here as a matter of principle. Others have more direct reasons for joining us. Come and meet a few. You as well, Kutch.” He nodded to Goyter and she went back to her duties, the smile blinking off.

  Karr led Reeth and Kutch deeper into the room. They stepped over reclining bodies and outstretched legs, skirted knots of chattering postulants. He spotted someone he knew and made for him. The man was probably just into his twenties. He was clothed poorly, but looked fit. Karr didn’t introduce him by name.

  “Would you mind telling why you’re here?” he asked. “For my friends?”

  “No, sir.” The young man was hesitant. He struck them as a doer rather than a talker. “Suppose it’s simple, really. I always wanted to do something of service to the country, like my father before me. He was regular army, sir. So I put in for the militia. But what they made me do, and the things I saw…’ The memory clouded his face darkly.

  “Such as?” Caldason prompted.

  “Lawful protests put down with uncalled-for brutality, people terrorised into becoming informers, suspects tortured or murdered… no end of things a peace-keeping force shouldn’t be doing.” A flash of zeal animated him. “I joined to safeguard people’s freedom, not to steal it.”

  “Tell us how it came to the crunch for you,” Karr said.

  “One bad order too many, sir. It was as plain as that. I had to disobey it, and that’s something you don’t do in the militia. So I deserted. My father would have been scandalised by that. But I reckoned I’d serve the people best by siding with the Resistance rather than the empires and their puppets.”

  Karr clasped the young man’s hand. “Your integrity does you credit.”

  As they turned from him, a woman approached. Her careworn face and sorrowful eyes spoke of some tragedy that had aged her. She was evidently someone else Karr knew. Once they’d greeted each other, he asked her the same question he’d asked the deserter.

  “Why am I here?” She seemed genuinely perplexed. “Where else could I be after what happened?”

  “What was that, ma’am?” Kutch inquired, his tone courteous and soft.

  The woman stared, as though seeing him for the first time. After a beat, she said, “Lost two boys. One not that much above your age, the gods bless you.”

  “How did they… ?”

  “War did for the eldest. One of those pointless wars against people we’ve no quarrel with. State killed the youngest.”

  “Executed for cowardice,” Karr elaborated. “I knew him. If he was a coward I’ll walk naked into a barbcats’ den.”

  “Speaking his mind was his only crime,” the woman judged, “and they took his life for it. That’s why I’m here, bringing what I can to the cause.”

  Karr thanked her and she reclaimed her place on a patch of floor.

  Nearby, he found another woman he recognised. Life had wearied her too, though her youthful looks remained more or less intact.

  The patrician related her story himself. “You lost your home in a forced clearance, so a palace could be built for a Gath Tampoorian overseer. Isn’t that right?”

  She nodded. “But that wasn’t the worst of it. When the people in our quarter united to object to the plan there was a bloodbath. My husband and my brother were… butchered.”

  “They sent paladins in,” Karr supplied.

  “Bastards,” the woman hissed. She noticed Caldason’s sympathetic expression, and studied him with shrewd eyes. “You’re a Qalochian?” she asked.

  He confirmed it with a slight bob of the head.

  “Then you know all about suffering at their hands. For my money, anyone who goes against those clan swine deserves a medal. I say more power to their sword arm, and good luck to them.” Her smile had little warmth but a great deal of canniness in it.

  The remark was pointed enough to make them pretty sure she’d guessed who Caldason was. They left it hanging and moved on.

  “See him?” Karr indicated a bearded, stocky individual, perched on a barrel. He wore a wool cap and was dressed in a heavy, dark blue long-coat. “Another defector. Navy, in his case. Second in command on a slave galley, would yo
u believe. Hated the brutality and came over to our side.”

  Every step seemed to elicit a tale. Karr pointed out more volunteers.

  “That pair standing by the door – reformed bandits. Some very useful skills they’ve brought us. Him. See? A priest. Broke his vows over a matter of conscience. The couple over there – a merchant and his wife. They –’

  “I think we get the point,” Caldason interrupted. “You have a groundswell of support.”

  “Yes, the Resistance is drawing from a wider pool than ever before.”

  “So all these people will be going to your island paradise?”

  Karr gave a small laugh. “It’ll hardly be that. But perhaps some of them will. We’ll see.”

  Caldason scanned the room. “It’s a motley crew.”

  “I think diverse is a better way of putting it. They have a range of expertise we need. More important, they’ve got something not easily measured. Passion. You can move mountains with that.”

  “Moving the empires might prove tougher.”

  Karr bristled. “Why do you always have to –’

  “Ssshhh!” Kutch had a finger to his lips.

  Goyter was standing on a crate. Now she called for order. Two men went to the conjunction of cogwheels in the middle of the room. They grasped a massive lever. Muscles working, they wrestled it down. The wheels slowed, their clinking grew lazy, then they squeaked to a halt. A final shudder released falls of fine white powder from somewhere above.

  With the machinery and chattering stopped, the silence felt strange. Everyone was standing by this time, and looking Goyter’s way. Karr, Reeth and Kutch found themselves at the back of the crowd, which suited them.

  “You all know why we’re here,” Goyter boomed, “so I don’t intend making this any longer than it should be. You’ve taken a decision that’s going to alter your lives. And that’s maybe going to alter the way we live, for the better. It’s a decision you can’t go back on after tonight, so be sure. Are there any here who don’t want to go further?”

  Not a hand went up, and nobody moved.

  “No one’s backed out yet,” Karr confided in a whisper. “I’m not sure what we’d do if anyone did at this stage. Have them killed, I suppose.”