Cry of the Newborn

by James Barclay

  'I'm sorry, Mirron. But that's the real world, too. You've grown up with what you have. But nearly everyone else has no idea of your abilities. An army believes in the strength of its arms and artillery. Nothing else.'

  'So why am I worse off than the others?'

  Menas sighed. 'Oh, Mirron, have you never looked at yourself?' 'What do you mean?'

  'Why do you think Kovan and Gorian fight over your attention?'

  'Well, I'm not that stupid.' Mirron was aware that she was blushing. 'I know boys will chase me.'

  Menas smiled. 'Well that's a good start. But you need to realise that you are a beautiful young woman and not a little girl. Not out here in the midst of an army of many men and few women. You've taken the blood of fertility, haven't you? And it's coming on again, isn't it? In a day or so. Captain Patonius spoke to you about this, didn't she?

  'Men will desire you. And the women in the army will not get in their way. Why do you think there are so many women camp-followers?'

  'Oh.' Mirron shrank back against Menas, finding herself very afraid. 'But you won't let them touch me, will you?'

  Menas's face hardened. 'I am here to protect you, Mirron. No one will hurt you while I am with you. I promise.'

  Mirron smiled. She felt admiration mixed with her relief. 'I'm glad you're here.'

  'Me, too.'

  Menas put an arm round her and pulled her close. 'Maybe I can join the Gatherers,' said Mirron. 'Be the first Ascendant to take the cloak and travel with you forever.' 'Maybe,' said Menas. 'Maybe.'

  Roberto put down his watered wine and stood up. He walked to the door of his tent and checked again that his guard was standing away as he had ordered; forming a perimeter out of earshot. When he turned, he could see the belief in Jhered's face but he just couldn't share it.

  'The heights of Kark must have starved your brain,' he said. 'Can't you see that this isn't just a desperate last throw, it is complete madness. How can you expect me to believe it?'

  'I'm asking you to trust me,' said Jhered.

  'On what grounds?' Roberto fought to keep his voice down. He pointed out of his tent. ‘I am just about keeping body and will together out there. Since my first and only victory this year, I have had plague, desertion, forced march, rebellion and every scrap of news that has come my way has been bad. And now you expect me to walk out there and tell my army that four children are going to win the war for us? If I do that, I will lose them all. They would laugh in my face and I would not blame them. I would have mutiny and this stitched-together force would disintegrate.' it is nevertheless true,' said Jhered.

  'But you have no proof,' he shouted before he could calm himself. 'Dammit, Paul, it sounds like pure invention. Tales to tell babies. And it is heresy against the Omniscient. I will not countenance it.'

  'And you think I haven't struggled with it, too?' Jhered stood and marched across the tent to stand toe to toe with him. The Gatherer was a full foot taller than him and his glare could melt stone. Roberto didn't flinch. 'Do you really think that I have travelled all the way here with them on a whim? The levium will have mustered at the Solastro Palace and I should be with them. They will ride without their commander. I am staking everything on the Ascendants because I believe that whatever their heretic status, they can save the Conquord.'

  Roberto nodded and waved one of the pieces of paper in his hand. 'And my mother trusts you so far that she believes you. For now. But she isn't here. She does not know the morale of my army.'

  'But still—'

  'Paul, you base their war-winning abilities on nothing. So they make the wind fill sails. So they can force roots to grow into a little barrier. If I choose to believe it, which I don't. But you extrapolate to the conclusion that they can bring down mountains, call hurricanes and lightning and tear the earth apart beneath our enemies' feet. It is nonsense and I do not understand why you of all people would have anything to do with it.'

  'Please, Roberto. See them. See their eyes. Let them show you what they can do.'

  'No!' Roberto turned from Jhered; he had to. This was like Shakarov all over again. A man he thought he knew and admired turning out to be a stranger. 'Have you not listened to a word I've said? If they can do what you say, what do you think a demonstration in this camp would do to my army? I don't care whose side they are on. Dear God-embrace-me, Exchequer, how can you expect this of me?'

  'Because you know you can trust me. Because you know I do nothing unless I believe it will benefit the Conquord and my friends. People like you, Roberto. And your mother.'

  Roberto shook his head. 'I'm sorry, Paul, but no. I will change the direction of my march because I believe your intelligence about the enemy. And I also believe I can win this war for the Conquord without assistance from any Ascendant witchcraft. I can fall on the Tsardon lines and, with Gestern, we will crush them. Then we will turn and take back Atreska.'

  'This from the man who earlier today thought the war all but lost,' said Jhered, and Roberto heard a contempt in his voice that pained him. 'You have found confidence from some source I would love to tap.'

  ‘I think you've said enough,' said Roberto. 'Because you are still my friend, I will afford you protection. Your Ascendants too. But they are not to act or I will have them executed for treason and heresy, do I make myself clear? I am the general of this army and I will not have that authority undermined by anyone. Not even you.'

  Jhered nodded. ‘I respect all that you have said, just as I respect you as the finest general in the Conquord. I'm not here to undermine your authority. I'm here to help.' He moved towards the tent entrance but paused and turned on his way. 'And perhaps you can win the war exactly as you describe. But I think you should add up the days it will take you to beat Tsard's thirty thousand at Gestern with your eleven thousand and then march to relieve the Neratharn border.

  'You do not have the time, Roberto, before the Tsardon break through up there. You know it and I know it. What is the point of scoring victory in Gestern if the Conquord is lost to the north? I can give you that time. Think on it, general. Let us help you.'

  Roberto dropped into the chair in front of his maps when Jhered had gone. He snatched up his wine and drained it. He called for more. Ten days to the Gesternan border. Another ten north to Byscar chasing the Tsardon, should he win. And six at least to the Neratharnese border through hostile territory. And that last into the teeth of dusasrise.

  He was in the middle of nowhere and any direction he took would let the Tsardon through in another place. He put his head in his hands and didn't even notice Herides come in with his fresh wine. The Conquord was failing.

  Chapter 61

  848th cycle of God, 35th day of Solasfall 15th year of the true Ascendancy

  'It's like some demonic procession of Caraducian trades and skills,' muttered Marshal Defender Vasselis.

  He stood with Harkov and Hesther on the left-hand gate-turret of Westfallen. Two days since Harkov had given him the news of the approach and the disorganised but sizeable rabble were within sight of the town.

  He passed his magnifier to Hesther. He didn't need it; the images would be etched forever in his mind. The determined, angry, frightened faces of his citizens. Some carried placards and banners. Others, in bitter irony, the Caraducian flag. It flew from Westfallen's gate-turrets too.

  Just ordinary trades people and farmers. Men, women and children. His people. Whipped into action by the words of the Readers and Speakers that walked with them. And kept moving by the few soldiers of the Armour of God riding by them. He even recognised one or two. They must have travelled from all over the south. From Cirandon, Port Roulent and every town they passed through on the way. All in one-eyed ignorance. There were several hundred of them. He wondered if any of them had the first clue what they hoped to achieve.

  'Such is the power of the Chancellor's will,' said Hesther, a tremble in her voice. 'Fear and hate. So easy to create, so hard to dispel.'

  'We will do what we must,' said Harkov, turn
ing to them both. 'You won't fight them, surely?' said Hesther.

  'I have orders from the Advocate,' said Harkov. 'I am a Captain of the Palace Guard. We will do what we must.'

  'Talk to them, Arvan,' said Hesther. 'Make them understand.'

  Vasselis couldn't look at Hesther. Nothing about this situation made sense. The Conquord was battling for its life across the Tirronean Sea and yet here its people fought over issues they did not and could not understand. Yet, at the same time, this coming fight could be the most important in Conquord history. It was a fight for progress and evolution.

  'I will say what I can,' said Vasselis. 'But you aren't naive, Mother Naravny. Nor are any of the Echelon. Westfallen's secrets have always been maintained at a price. Its survival may come at a higher cost still.'

  Hesther stared at the side of his head until he turned to her. He could see the conflict within her.

  'You would fire on your own citizens?'

  'If my hand is forced I will not hesitate,' he said. He saw Hesther shudder. 'I'm sorry. None of us wished this.'

  'Perhaps it won't come to that,' said Harkov. 'They are poorly armed and they have no artillery. Only a fool would attack us.'

  Vasselis breathed deep. 'Perhaps not yet. But they may merely be the vanguard.'

  He looked to his left and right. Levium lined the stockade. Bows were leant against the timbers, gladiuses in scabbards. The sight of the hundred cloaks should be enough to keep them out of bowshot. But if not, his men manned catapults and scorpions. And a hundred further Caraducian guard were billeted throughout the town. He hadn't bothered to summon any to the gates. What was coming at them today would never force a breach.

  When the first of the crowd were within a hundred yards they began to slow; bunching up and pausing at the edge of bow range. Vasselis took up his magnifier again. Uncertainty had replaced much of the determination. The reality of the new face of Westfallen and its defenders took much of the energy from the march. Vasselis shook his head.

  'Now what will you do?' he whispered.

  The answer was quickly forthcoming. Ten people broke from the front of the crowd which spread across the open space in front of the gates. A few shouts came over the sound of the wind rippling flag and banners. Four riders of the Armour of God shadowed six Readers and Speakers. They advanced under the banner of the Omniscient.

  He felt a keen disappointment on recognising Speaker Lotheris from Port Roulent. The Prime Speaker of Caraduk was not with them, he noted. It was to be hoped that he continued to display a greater wisdom.

  It was Lotheris who spoke from a position only ten yards from the gates.

  'Marshal Defender Arvan Vasselis—'

  'Here we go, charges and demands,' muttered Vasselis.

  '—you are accused of heresy against the Omniscient; of the harbouring and protection of named heretics; of the perversion of the scriptures and the murder of soldiers from the Armour of God. We few here represent but a tiny minority of those saddened by the truth and must reluctantly demand justice. We have served you and Caraduk unflinchingly and unfailingly. But now you must stand to account before us.'

  Lotheris gestured behind her.

  'These are your people. They demand you answer to them. They demand your surrender for trial before them. It is as the law allows and you may not refuse.'

  'Your command of the laws of the Conquord is commendable,' said Vasselis, pitching his voice for the ten below him only. 'And I look forward to standing before my people to prove my case. But not like this. This is a mob and no ruler will bow to a mob. Moreover, it is a mob whipped to action by half-truths, supposition and the testimony of a discredited Chancellor who herself faces trial for murder in Estorr.'

  Vasselis paused at Lotheris's reaction. Sweat was on her brow and her puffed cheeks were red.

  'Omitted that small detail, did she? I am surprised. Her mind is normally so sharp where crime against the Conquord and the Omniscient is concerned.' Vasselis shook his head. 'But there's something else you've missed, isn't there? I am also aware of the laws of the Conquord. And naturally, I will walk from these gates as you require.'

  He laid a hand on Hesther's arm in response to her gasp.

  'But first, I wish to read the countersigned warrant from the Advocate. She is the only person capable of agreeing to your demand for my arrest. A formality, I'm sure. Which of you has it?'

  Vasselis felt a cold contempt in the pit of his stomach. He waited for the silence to grow.

  'What did you hope to achieve by this pitiful display, Lotheris? Did you think my remorse would be so great that I would rush gratefully into your care to plead for mercy and confess my wrongs? The Chancellor has spread her rumours and lies expertly, I can see. So well that they have removed reason from otherwise intelligent individuals.'

  He raised his head and filled his lungs to shout to his citizens.

  'Go home, all of you. You are victims of deception. There is no heresy here. There are no criminals to be tried. And these beneath the gates have no authority on which to act. Go back to your businesses. Pull together for the true cause, for the war against the Tsardon. Dusas is coming. Your home fires are warm. The land you stand on now will freeze beneath you.'

  Some of them heard him. He saw the ripple of conversation through the crowd. He returned his attention to Lotheris.

  'You are a misguided fool. I do not believe myself in breach of any law or Omniscient scripture. Why would I submit to you? Look around me. I am here to defend this town and the innocents within it from the excesses ordered by your Chancellor. I have artillery, I have levium, I have Caraducian guard. All here by order. All trained professionals. I have everything I need for a comfortable dusas. And I will use it to its fullest capacity.

  'Go away. The citizens of Port Roulent need their Speaker with them as the Tsardon threat grows. Don't let the Chancellor deflect you from your appointed tasks under God.'

  Lotheris spat on the ground and rubbed the saliva in with her heel.

  'The air has a bitter taste here, Marshal,' she said. 'I have tried to reason with you. We don't want more bloodshed over this heresy. All we desire is justice. But you can have a struggle if that is what you want.

  'I can see your defences and they are strong indeed. But the Armour of God is stronger. And they are coming. Your time is short and the pain of your followers will be deep.'

  She turned and stalked away back to the crowd which fell silent to watch her come.

  'How long do you think we have?' asked Hesther.

  'They're bluffing,' said Harkov.

  'No,' said Vasselis. 'I know the Chancellor. She will not stand the humiliation without seeking redress. But how many will she send? As to how long we have, I have no idea. All we can do is be ready for whatever Felice Koroyan decides to throw at us. Damn her but the Armour should be in Neratharn or defending the coast. How can the Advocate not know about this?'

  The weather was cooling rapidly and the first rain of the changing season had struck them the day before. Despite them moving south, the chilling of solas towards dusas was undeniable. Roberto allowed no slackening of pace. The ground was flat, hard and good for walking, helping them achieve thirty miles a day.

  Jhered, Menas and Kovan had been given horses and they rode these beside the wagon in which the Ascendants were travelling. Roberto had forbidden them to be seen outside of tent or wagon and Jhered had endured them reverting to type as a consequence. They had moaned about their conditions, about getting up early, about travelling so far every day, about army rations, about his mood. Anything.

  Roberto had refused to speak to Jhered on any matters other than tactics and military intelligence since their first discussion. He had also taken his command team into his confidence about the Ascendants. And despite his determination to keep the circle of knowledge limited, rumours had run through the army, some far too close to the truth for comfort.

  It meant that Jhered rarely strayed from them day or night, such was the int
erest in them from the ordinary soldier. He had even suggested that they travel with the followers rather than the engineers at the rear of the column. Roberto had disputed the wisdom, saying that would leave them too open. Jhered was only half-worried about that and Roberto knew it.

  The exchange with Roberto had left Jhered frustrated and irritable. He was aware his temper was short and it was now that he needed the Ascendants to be with him more than ever. But yet another bickering dispute had seen him tie his horse to the wagon and climb in the back to quieten them down.

  'Has someone stolen your biscuit, Ossacer?' he said. 'Or is it something far more serious, like whose turn it is to sit on the cushion versus the straw?'

  A babble of protest rose from all four in the darkened, stuffy wagon. He stared back at them until they realised he was not going to respond.

  'You really are all very stupid,' he said. He raised a hand. 'No, you had your say. Your problem was you decided you would all have it at once. Now it's my turn.'

  He waited for them to be ready to listen.

  'Why must you constantly disappoint me? You want me to treat you like adults but the moment I think you've earned that respect, you demonstrate once again how immature you really are. You know the position we are in. General Del Aglios is only protecting us because he doesn't want his army finding out what you are and because, at heart, he is a very good man. If he wasn't, we would be abandoned in the wilds right now. I don't want to give him cause to change his mind. For you that means obeying the rules of the army without complaint. For me it means trying to alter his perception of you. But to do that, you have to back me up and this endless whingeing does not help me.

  'You think he doesn't hear us up at the head of the column because it is two miles away? Think again. He has his ears everywhere. In the wagon behind us is Rovan Neristus. He's the chief engineer and one of the general's closest friends. They talk every night. He's the man who is charged with improving artillery and transport. It takes a lot of thought. But what do you suppose he is telling the general at the moment? He's telling him that he cannot think because four wailing children are distracting his mind.'