Mirron sighed and nodded reassuringly at them all, seeing the anxiety leaving their faces and the eagerness to know building in its place.
'So,' she said, voice a little rough from the smoke. 'It can be done.' 'Well, obviously,' said Father Kessian. Laughter rang around the walled garden.
Chapter 12
847th cycle of God, 10th day of Dusasrise
14th year of the true Ascendancy
Estorr. Capital of the Estorean Conquord. A magnificent city of white and red splendour, sparkling in the dawn sun. It dominated the horizon for the last hours of a voyage to Estorea across the Tirronean Sea. A sight to lift the heart and swell the body with pride.
Paul Jhered stood in the prow of the Hark's Arrow, his cloak wrapped about him, hood over his head against the freezing temperatures. Above him, the main sail was full in the strong wind, driving them across their last miles, the Gatherers' crest proud at its centre.
The massive fortified harbour of concrete and stone speared half a mile into the sea, its dual walls shaped like a crab's claws with a fortress at the pincer of each. Trebuchets adorned their flat roofs and stone-projecting ballistae occupied positions on three levels towards the sea and the harbour, presenting a withering fire for any enemy and a warning to those seeking to flee the harbour carrying contraband or fugitives. The harbour walls provided deep water berths for large merchant and naval vessels while in the shallows and at the shoreline, fishing smacks clustered in the mill-pond calm.
From the harbour, the great walled city spread out north and south along the coast and up a series of slopes to a hilltop, its peak flattened centuries before to build the first of the Conquord palaces. Jhered had often said that every citizen should be afforded the opportunity to see the city from the sea. There really was no sight like it in the entire Conquord, and he was uniquely placed to make such a judgement.
Estorr was laid out before him in almost map-like order. He could see the wide main avenues, tree-lined and hung with flags, angling up towards the hills and palace like the spokes of a cartwheel. In between them, houses and businesses were packed in a maze of tight streets and alleys. Concrete and stone were whitewashed and decorated in a kaleidoscope of colour for individual identity and advertisement.
As the city rose to its peaks, so the wealth and space increased. Parkland studded the cityscape. Villas rose from behind manicured gardens and curtains of tall, shaped evergreens. To the south, the principal arena towered five storeys into the sky, its processional road to the palace complex wide and bannered along its length. The Gardens of the Advocates stood by the arena, beautiful and reverent. Marble statues of Advocates going back to the earliest days of the Conquord stood on proud fluted columns lining the paths of the park or grouped around stone seats and fountains.
Jhered could see the central forum, thick with activity, set in the centre of the city. Colonnaded on all four sides, it was the single largest open space in Estorr, with an amphitheatre to its north, an oratory to its south and a flood of stalls and people teeming at its centre. City life pulsed here like nowhere else.
And if the forum was the heart of the city, then the three aqueducts were its arteries. Staggering structures of double arches carrying water to the fountains and pipes, city ponds and small lakes, they dominated the higher reaches behind the city. But his eye as ever was inevitably drawn to the palace complex itself, gazing down on all it possessed. He could already imagine the sights that would greet him when he entered it a few hours from now.
Passing through the ceremonial gates the visitor was awed by the grandeur before his eyes. Inside the walls, at the centre of the grand courtyard was the Victory Fountain; four cavalrymen raising the flag of the Conquord, with horses rearing triumphant to the points of the compass. South and east lay the senate administrative buildings and the military and Gatherer headquarters. They presented a blank, colonnaded facade, their imposing doors leading into vaulted chambers and a myriad rooms from where the Conquord was organised, taxed, secured and expanded.
West, the basilica. Delicately carved columns, over a hundred feet tall, standing in eight rows of twelve facing the courtyard, supported a stone roof adorned with carvings of the great battles of the early Conquord as it expanded through Gestern, Avarn, Caraduk and
Easthale. Inside, laws were passed, justice dispensed and pleas heard by the Advocate and her inner circle of propraetors, praetors, aediles and magistrates.
And north, the palace itself. Forty steps, each two hundred feet wide, led up to a dramatic colonnaded entrance. A flag was draped from the ceremonial balcony, shading the huge, gilt inlaid and steel bound doors that led into the grand hallway. This in turn opened into the mighty atrium, at a fountain its centre cascading water over lilies and goldfish.
The atrium was bordered by columns on all four sides and from it the throne room, dining halls, private chambers and gardens were reached. Tapestries and works of art hung from every wall. Statues stood proudly in every alcove and the weight of glory and history pressed on even the strongest man, rendering him weak and humble.
Jhered drew in a deep breath, feeling the cold air sear his lungs and fill him with vitality. The palace, too, should be a place all citizens saw. It was an edifice that spoke so eloquently of the majesty and power of the Conquord. A reminder of what the Conquord had brought the world. It was its absolute shining centre but some of those who walked its corridors were becoming its rotten, decadent core.
It was why Jhered felt compelled to journey back from his current duties in Gestern, leaving the bulk of the Gatherers in the field and bringing only his honour guard with him. Too many problems, too many rumours and too many raids in this peaceful country with the misfortune of sharing a border with Atreska. Generally speaking, Jhered felt uncomfortable when he had sympathy for the ruler of a province where tax concerns were raised. But the Marshal Defender of Gestern was a woman for whom he had enormous respect. And following his meetings with Katrin Mardov, he had taken the decision to travel home with the revenue chests and approved accounts.
With the pale sun at its zenith, the Hark's Arrow moved serenely between the guardian fortresses. Her three banks of oars were in the water now and her sail furled. The arrival of the Gatherers' flagship was announced by a sounding of the quadruple horns in their flag towers. The sound split the day, echoing across the water and rolling up the hills on which Estorr stood. Activity ceased on the dockside for a moment, people turning to stare at the vessel rowing in close control towards her permanent berth at the portside wall. From the harbour garrison, whistles were sounded and a detachment of riders came to meet the ship, flying the flag of the Advocate and shadowing an armoured carriage.
The master of the Hark barked out a series of orders as the ship manoeuvred towards the berth. Crewmen ran forward and aft to ready the hawsers. Twelve spread along the port rail with poles to fend the ship off the dock wall as it came to rest. The ship angled in, port oars shipped, starboard oars driving the vessel slowly round. With the slightest grating, the Hark nudged the dock wall. A wide gangplank slapped into place.
'Exchequer Jhered, welcome back to Estorr,' said the master.
Jhered turned and nodded his acknowledgement, striding down the deck to the gangplank, where the master was standing.
'Thank you. It was a fine voyage. Tell me, how long are you due to stay in port?'
'Ten days, my Lord. We have some minor repairs, stores to take on and my crew will rest. Then we head north to Neratharn.'
'Ah yes, you'll be taking Appros Derizan and team. A challenging brief for them. South-western Atreska is not an easy place.'
'Indeed, my Lord. We have been requested to stand offshore until their investigation is complete.'
Jhered nodded. 'Do so. I may be travelling back with you. I'll send word. Have my bags sent to my quarters on the hill.'
Jhered thumped down the gangplank, his honour guard of eight soldiers at his back. Approaching the cavalry and wagon that were halted waitin
g for the chests, he smiled at the surprise on the captain's face. The man dismounted in a hurry and slapped his left hand to his right shoulder.
'We had not expected you, Exchequer Jhered.'
'Then you must be glad you had your guards polish their greaves this morning, Captain Harkov,' said Jhered, smiling. He nodded at the cavalry, a ripple of laughter running through them. But it was true. Not just greaves but breastplates, scabbards, plumed helmets, bits and bridles. All gleaming and beautifully prepared. Jhered was impressed.
'It would not do for the Advocate's cavalry to appear anything less than perfect, my Lord.' 'You do her credit.'
'Where are you headed? Our horses are at your disposal.'
'Straight to the hill for an audience with the Advocate,' replied Jhered. 'And thank you for your offer but your duty is to the revenue chests. It is a bracing day. We will walk the harbour wall to your offices. I expect you have horses enough there.'
'Naturally, my Lord. I'll see sufficient are readied for you.' He pointed at a cavalrywoman who wheeled and galloped away. 'It's a popular destination at the moment.'
'Oh, really?' Jhered smoothed his cloak over his breastplate and skirts. The wind whipped inside, chilling his legs.
‘I escorted the Marshal Defender of Atreska there myself two days ago, my Lord. And I understand delegations from Gosland and Dornos have been in residence for seven days. I should also tell you that the Chancellor's banner flies above the Principal House too.'
'Hasn't she got heretics to burn elsewhere?' muttered Jhered for Harkov's ears only.
'Apparently there are problems in some far-flung areas,' said Harkov. He raised his eyebrows under his helmet. 'She is suing for more enforcement strength, I understand.'
'It is a common theme,' said Jhered, irked by the competition he would have for the Advocate's ear. 'I'm grateful for the information.' He nodded. 'Good to see you, Captain Harkov. You really should reconsider my offer.'
'Perhaps when my children are a little older, my Lord.' He saluted again.
'Your family are more fortunate than they know.' He turned to his guard. 'Let's go. Two by four behind me, eyes front. March.'
From the palace guard barracks, Jhered took horses through the city to the palace on the hill. Once there, Jhered led his honour guard on foot to the Gatherer barracks where he dismissed them for the day before walking in under the Victory Gates. The gates had been built to celebrate the life of the first Advocate of the Conquord, Jennin Havessel. They were a dominating and towering monument, the highest ramparts reaching three hundred feet into the sky.
Nevertheless, it was easy to walk through the grand arch, eyes fixed on the glories inside the courtyard and ignore the intricate carvings that covered every face of the marble and sandstone structure, depicting Havessel's battles and the return of spoils to Estorr. On a dull day, the gold inlay did not sparkle. Nor did the sentinels, statues of four warrior heroes, each a hundred and fifty feet high, seem to intimidate so much, drawing instead into the shadows. But Jhered always paused to run his hands over the centuries-old stonework to remind himself of the legacy he had sworn to protect and to develop.
Jhered emerged from the lantern-light inside the arch, took the salute of the palace guard and swept across the marble courtyard, with its mosaic depictions of battles won and glories long consigned to myth and legend. He ignored the temptation to freshen up in his private offices, instead making directly for the basilica. He could see the multiple colours of togas and the flash of polished armour inside the matrix of columns. The Advocate's banner was hanging down in front of the main entrance to the open structure, marking it as an official day of petition, debate and statement.
A drift of voices carried on the breeze, one dominating the others on his approach: Felice Koroyan, Chancellor of the Order of Omniscience. Nominally, the second most powerful person in the Conquord and a woman whom Jhered would die to protect but with whom he would not choose to share the same air. Still, he enjoyed the sparring that inevitably accompanied an open meeting between her and the Advocate. Today, the heat appeared to be high.
Jhered took the dozen polished marble steps two at a time and marched quickly through the entrance hallway, past banners flying from every column and guards snapping spears to attention as he passed. The sound of his steel-shod road boots echoed from the cavernous ceiling, sounding through the basilica. He was aware of voices falling silent.
He swung left into the audience chamber. It was crowded with the great, the good and the degenerate of the Advocate's sanctum. The Advocate herself sat on a throne placed on a stage two steps above her subjects. It was a wide seat, made for a far larger body, and boasted carved and gilded wood upholstered in the deep green of the Conquord.
She was dressed in flowing robes of state. Finest Tundarran spun wool, dazzling white and edged in green and gold with a sash of office from right shoulder to left hip. Her short dark and greying hair was threaded with gold and fronted by a tiara. She had been half-slouched on her throne, elbow on one plush arm and hand supporting her chin but she was sitting upright now, a smile creeping across her face.
Every eye was on him. He strode through the benches filled with courtiers and petitioners and into the space between the stage and the two arcs of five, high-backed chairs closest to the throne. He stopped on coming level with the Chancellor who was standing by her chair, to his right, and glaring at him. All conversation had long since ceased.
He bowed, the last ricochets of his steps fading in the timber rafters.
'My apologies, my Advocate, for my unannounced arrival.' He turned fractionally towards the Chancellor. 'Please, don't let me interrupt you.'
In front of him, the Advocate stifled a laugh, putting a hand quickly across her mouth. The Chancellor was silent for a moment.
'Then sit, Exchequer Jhered,' she said. 'I have the floor and your appearance is not further prioritised by its volume.'
'Nevertheless, it is a welcome surprise,' said the Advocate, her smooth authoritative voice a stark counterpoint to the Chancellor's heavy south-eastern accent. Jhered bowed again and took his seat to the left. He reached out a hand and squeezed that of Marshal Defender Vasselis of Caraduk whom he had not realised would be present. Finally, he nodded curtly at Marshal Defender Yuran of Atreska whom he was far less pleased to see. The man had become a serial complainer concerning a civil war he had done little to quell but which affected all the legions marching to Tsard.
However, his presence on this occasion might just be beneficial. At least he had a separate perspective on the campaigns in Tsard and might, just might if he could be persuaded to look beyond his own petty troubles for a moment, add useful insight into the problems facing Gosland and Gestern.
Chancellor Koroyan had resumed speaking. She took a rolled parchment from one of her advisers. Jhered craned his neck and saw it was the Speaker of the Earth. A heady delegation indeed.
'The fact is that in all seven of our newest outlying territories, we do not have enough strength to carry the message of the Order. Native religions flourish while my Readers, Pastors and Speakers are at best ignored, or driven from their Houses of Masks. Some have been even less fortunate and I will leave you this list for the Conquordian records of those murdered for their beliefs.'
She snapped her fingers and was handed another parchment which she unrolled.
'A few more details for you—'
The Advocate glanced briefly at Jhered who rolled his eyes.
'—Gosland's bemusing animal icon religion has resurfaced throughout the territory; Atreska's well-known allegiance to the multifarious and heretical faiths of Tsard shows no sign of diminishing; and in north-eastern Gestern, the mountain idols, statues and carvings favoured by the Kark are gathering worshippers and pilgrims by the thousand.
'Now, before all those here present protest that our Tsardon borders are bound to foster discontent and drive the misguided to seek solace in their old faiths, let me tell you that I understand that. I
also understand that it strengthens my petition. And if these territories were my only challenges, I would not be standing here. Rather, I would be diverting my missionaries and few legions to the Tsardon border states myself.
'However, it seems this insurgency of bewilderingly loose and groundless faiths is growing in strength rather closer to home.' She spared Vasselis a meaningful look, which he returned unflinching. 'Among your closest allies, my Readers are ignored and obstructed in their God-given duties. And in the heartlands of the Conquord, in Avarn, Neratharn, Phaskar . . . countries steeped in centuries of Conquord glory, still there are significant numbers of citizens openly flouting the teachings of the Order.
'Only in Estorea, it seems, is God truly worshipped and respected. That is undoubtedly why here we are spared retribution and the citizens enjoy long, peaceful and productive lives before returning to the bosom of the Omniscient in triumph.'
Koroyan paused, letting her words hang in the light air of the basilica.
'My Advocate, the Conquord population expands at a rate that none of us could have foreseen even fifteen years ago. The accessions of Gosland and Atreska have stretched Order resources beyond our capacity to control as we must. And that was before the border and insurgency troubles began taking their combined tolls.
'The Conquord needs its religion to be a dominant force or all the good work of our legions will ultimately come to nothing, a result none of us desire. You are the Prime Speaker of the Order, you know this to be true. I must have more funding because I must have more people to carry the word and to bear arms against those who would strike against God and everything we hold close to our hearts.
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