Salute the Dark sota-4

by Adrian Tchaikovsky

  Thalric stood up. ‘I remember you,’ he said. ‘From the palace. You were Ulther’s prisoner.’

  Kymene nodded. ‘And you his executioner.’ She saw him flinch, however hard he tried to hide it. ‘You did me good service, Major Thalric. I remember you too.’

  Hokiak chuckled, tugging his collar from her fingers and sloping back towards the bar. ‘You ain’t heard nothing,’ he said.

  ‘Speak to me, Thalric.’ Kymene approached him. She caught Che’s wrist as she went, pulling the Beetle girl after her. ‘This one says you’ve turned traitor to your own now. I don’t believe it.’

  ‘It’s a philosophical question,’ Thalric replied with a bleak smile. ‘I still believe that I am a good imperial officer. It’s only that the Empire doesn’t seem to be what it should be.’

  Her lip curled. ‘And so what?’

  There was a sudden banging at the front door of the Exchange, and abruptly Hokiak’s men were on their feet, reaching for crossbows or drawing swords. Chyses’ knife flashed in the lamplight. A moment later Gryllis appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Empire or her lot?’ Hokiak demanded.

  ‘Empire!’ Gryllis proclaimed. ‘Two whole squads of them.’ He ducked back out front as the splintering sound from the shop front told of the door being smashed in. The old Scorpion leant forward stubbornly on his cane.

  ‘Why Lieutenant Parser, my old friend!’ they heard Gryllis cry, all fake cheer. ‘You know you only had to knock-’

  ‘Out of the way, Gryllis,’ a Wasp voice snapped.

  ‘But listen, whatever you want-’

  ‘We’re here to search your place, old man. Nothing personal. Everyone gets turned over tonight. Everyone but everyone. You just stay quiet and you can walk away.’

  ‘What did you do?’ Kymene demanded in an urgent whisper.

  ‘I killed Colonel Latvoc,’ Thalric replied. ‘I killed General Reiner and I gave you your revolution. Enjoy.’

  Abruptly there were Wasps in the room, pushing into it with their swords drawn, hands outstretched. Kymene flicked up her cowl.

  Thalric counted a score of Wasps: not a targeted raid, just a fiercely punitive one. Because of him, bands like this would be kicking in doors all over the city. ‘Lieutenant, hold!’ he snapped out. With the automatic reflex of a soldier hearing orders the officer held up his hand to stay his men.

  ‘Who are you?’ The lieutenant was a young man, but no fool. ‘If you’re a soldier, you’re out of uniform.’

  ‘What are your orders, Lieutenant?’ Thalric asked him. ‘What’s the news from the palace?’

  ‘We’re rounding up every known rebel we can catch,’ the officer replied instinctively, and then, ‘And we’re not answering questions from a stranger!’ Thalric sensed the frayed nerves there, meaning the news had already got around the garrison, for all the efforts the senior officers might have made to keep it quiet.

  Thalric glanced at Che, then at Kymene. Oh, they picked the right place, for all that they don’t know it. A prime Lowlander spy and the leader of the resistance. The Rekef would have a field day. He looked over at Hokiak and saw the same thoughts written on the old man’s lined features.

  And I could sink the resistance right here, and save Myna for the Empire, Thalric reflected. There were swords drawn on both sides, the numbers weighted in favour of the Wasps, but then he heard the sound of even more soldiers entering the shop front.

  He nodded to Hokiak.

  ‘Che,’ Thalric signalled briefly. Abruptly there were Hokiak’s men on either side of him.

  ‘Thalric?’ Che asked, even as the lieutenant ordered, ‘Arrest the lot of them. Search the back, too.’

  ‘I’m the one you want,’ Thalric announced calmly.

  ‘Oh, and why’s that?’ the lieutenant asked.

  ‘Because I killed the governor.’

  They froze, every one of them. The news obviously had trickled down to the very rank and file of the garrison. Every man among them was staring at him, and the mixture of expressions amused him, in a brief moment of clarity. They were making sure they looked as though they hated him for what he had done, but clearly Latvoc had not been loved.

  ‘Say that again,’ their officer said slowly.

  ‘Lieutenant,’ Hokiak began softly, ‘you know me. You know me well. I do good business for the Empire, right? You don’t want to come and smash my place up, on account of I got stuff here that it ain’t… politic to find, see?’

  The lieutenant looked from him to Thalric, and back.

  ‘I kept this fellow for you, right? I was going to send news to your lot. He’s yours, so take him. Just let me and my people here keep on doing business.’

  From his thoughtful look, Lieutenant Parser was obviously no stranger to Hokiak’s services, and a few of his men had shown a similar interest in the old man’s words.

  ‘Nothing else to declare, is there?’ he asked, staring at Thalric again.

  ‘Is the governor’s murder not enough for you?’ Thalric asked.

  ‘You’re remarkably flippant for a man about to die.’

  Thalric sensed Che tense beside him. Not for me, stupid girl, and certainly not here. ‘You won’t kill me, Lieutenant. You’re a clever man. There’s a man named Maxin back in Capitas who’ll be very interested to hear that I killed General Reiner and his pet flea.’

  The lieutenant was a good officer and he had a sense of his own political future, even here and now. ‘Bring him,’ he ordered brusquely.

  ‘Thalric-’ Che protested.

  ‘Quiet.’ He looked down at her, putting a hand to her cheek. Stupid, clumsy Beetle girl, you should be dead a dozen times over. And yet here she was, and he knew, as he had known for a long time, that he liked her. Her Moth-scholar is indeed a lucky man. Before she could react, he ducked and kissed her briefly, watched her eyes widen in shock, though she did not pull away. Then the soldiers had him.

  ‘You keep yourself quiet down here,’ the lieutenant was instructing Hokiak. ‘If they tell me to come back and torch this firepit, I will do.’

  ‘Of course,’ the Scorpion said humbly. ‘Me and my people will keep our heads down, don’t you worry.’

  The lieutenant’s eyes passed over the others gathered there with a hint of suspicion. ‘They’re all yours? You can vouch for them?’ the officer asked.

  The sweep of Hokiak’s broken-clawed hand took in Che, took in Kymene and her escort, cloaked them with the anonymity of his own surly bodyguards. ‘Like my own flesh and blood, Lieutenant.’ This was his token gesture of taking sides, as much as he ever would.

  Eighteen

  ‘I have considered your proposal, General,’ the Emperor Alvdan the Second declared. The last of his advisors, slow old Gjegevey, was just shambling out of the room, leaving the Emperor still slouching on his central throne.

  ‘Your Imperial Majesty,’ said Maxin neutrally. The Emperor’s face gave nothing away, he did not even look directly at the Rekef General, but Maxin’s mind was busy straining the possibilities. The ‘proposal’ now referred to could mean only one thing: the future of the Rekef.

  ‘I have sent for General Brugan. I understand he is still in the capital.’

  He was, and that had been cause for some disquiet as far as Maxin was concerned. Brugan was every bit the dutiful soldier: his achievements in the East-Empire had been numerous but untrumpeted, accomplished efficiently and without fanfare. He had put down rebellions and infiltrated cities, but he had been long away from Capitas and word of his triumphs had not spread far. Now he was here, though, and Maxin had been watching him closely even as he went about mundane and expected business. Maxin was never the trusting sort.

  ‘I have also sent word to General Reiner,’ Alvdan said. Now he was watching Maxin keenly, though Maxin’s expression was merely one of polite interest.

  ‘Your Imperial Majesty?’

  ‘I have asked him if he would have any objection to your reorganization,’ continued Alvdan mildly. ‘He has sent m
e no reply.’

  ‘I am not surprised, your Majesty.’ Because he’s dead, dead, dead. Maxin trusted himself to be ahead of the Emperor in any news. After all, was he not the man supposed to keep the crown informed? Oh yes, Reiner was dead, and there was at least a chance Alvdan had not yet discovered it for himself. The unexpected executioner was in the hands of Maxin’s agents and on his way to Capitas even now. I should thank him, really. I should give him a medal. Instead the culprit would be executed in some very public way, this blessed assassin, as befits the murderer of an imperial general. One could not allow such a precedent to be set.

  ‘May I enquire,’ he said carefully, ‘what decision you have come to?’

  Alvdan gave him a wintry smile. ‘You have omitted an honorific, I think, General.’

  ‘Your Imperial Majesty.’

  ‘Do not take me for a fool. I know your schemes only too well. I have an Empire full of plotters, and every man after his own profit. Well, I can use that, nevertheless. I am still Emperor, and though my subjects twist and turn, all that they achieve is advancement for the Empire, would you not say?’

  ‘Of course, your Majesty.’ Maxin watched him closely. The Emperor seemed in a flippant mood, which seldom boded well.

  ‘You have done your best to cripple General Reiner.’ Alvdan studied him, abruptly stern. His posture on the throne was suddenly that of a severe Emperor addressing a mere subject. ‘His silence we find ominous, but time shall tell. You have continued to keep General Brugan far from here, where we should not notice him. But know that his acts have been noted. He has been a good and loyal subject, and all the more so for his distance.’

  Maxin found his palms opening reflexively, where a man of any other kinden might have clenched his fists. Alvdan currently regarded him with so little love that it seemed any moment he must call for his guards to take the general away.

  Then the Emperor smiled, and the moment of suspense broke. ‘The Empire rewards service ably performed. The Emperor, in particular, rewards service well done. Do not think that I have forgotten who removed all those troublesome siblings… Ah, General Brugan.’

  Maxin turned to see the younger general walk in and kneel before the throne.

  ‘Rise, General. You have enjoyed your stay in Capitas, we hope.’

  ‘I have, your Imperial Majesty.’

  ‘We have a proclamation for your ears, General, concerning the Rekef and its structure.’

  Brugan did not even look at Maxin, but fixed his eyes at a space immediately before the Emperor.

  ‘We have decided that our father erred,’ said Alvdan, clearly savouring the words even as he spoke them. ‘Three men to wrestle for the future of the Rekef? No, for once, and in this one matter, he erred. There must be one man only leading the Rekef against our enemies.’

  Brugan still made no reaction, only waited.

  ‘We are therefore appointing our General Maxin here as lord of all the Rekef. Since we cannot very well demote yourself and General Reiner, he shall henceforth be entitled Supreme General, second in rank only to the crown itself. I trust you have no objection to our will.’

  Maxin was watching the other man with all the practice of a spymaster. There was no defiance in him, no anger, but there was simply… nothing. General Brugan did not kick against the imperial edict, he showed no resentment whatsoever. That was the unnatural part of it. Maxin knew that Brugan was always the dutiful soldier, but to be put down thus, passed over, and show absolutely no emotion… There was something more going on here, that Maxin was not aware of. For a man in his position it was an acutely uncomfortable realization.

  ‘I shall do in all things as your Majesty directs,’ replied Brugan simply, and he then looked sidelong, and very briefly, at General Maxin, but still without any expression that could be read.

  ‘You are dismissed now, General. We anticipate that, after the celebrations for the anniversary of our coronation, you shall be returning to the East-Empire.’

  ‘Of course, your Imperial Majesty.’ Brugan bowed again and then departed smartly.

  ‘You appreciate why we are doing this, we are sure,’ Alvdan informed Maxin. ‘A sundering of the Rekef weakens us all. I have given you command because, now that you’ve forced matters to a head, who else is there?’

  Maxin noticed the lapse into informal speech and relaxed a little. ‘Your Imperial Majesty,’ he acknowledged, to be safe.

  ‘I warn you, though,’ Alvdan said, ‘I want it all reined in. You’ve let it go too far in your seeking this. Szar is in open revolt now, and now I understand that the Mynans are bucking as well. I want troops into Myna, enough to crush the entire city. That is, if they’re still so interested in fighting after they see what we leave of Szar. Crush them, Maxin, swiftly and thoroughly. We must concentrate all our forces on the Lowlands campaign. I feel a need to expand the imperial borders.’

  ‘Yes, your Majesty.’

  Alvdan’s eyes narrowed. ‘And fetch me the Mosquito. All his wretched protests can go hang. I want to know when.’

  ‘I have told him that the ritual shall be performed after his coronation festivities,’ explained Uctebri dismissively. ‘He wanted something public, and so I explained why that would not be appropriate.’

  ‘And why is that?’ Seda asked him.

  From beneath the cowl, Uctebri smiled slyly. ‘Well, now, the reason that I gave his Imperial Majesty was that his people would perhaps not readily accept a ruler seen to be dabbling in such arts as I can peddle. However, the reason that I now give you is that our own plans shall come to fruition quite publicly enough, and somewhat sooner.’

  ‘During the anniversary celebration itself.’

  ‘Precisely.’ The Mosquito steepled his bony fingers. ‘Timing will be essential, and I have a great deal left to accomplish if we are to succeed. Who would have thought that in just three short generations the Empire would have built up a tangle of politics quite so complex? Would you not agree, General?’

  The third conspirator present in Seda’s chambers eyed the old man with patient loathing. General Brugan despised Uctebri as a slave and as a charlatan, and made no secret of that. He understood nothing of the arcane schemes that the Mosquito spoke of, only that it was treason. It was a treason he had cast his lot with, however, for Seda had wooed him, and he knew that it would be through Uctebri’s machinations that she triumphed over her brother. That Brugan would do his best to have this pallid creature killed thereafter was quite obvious. That Uctebri was blithely unconcerned by the threat was just as plain.

  ‘General,’ Seda addressed him. ‘I trust you are not having second thoughts.’ She already knew that he was not. Between Uctebri and old Gjegevey, she knew a great deal these days, both natural and otherwise. She wanted to give Brugan the chance to make his own decision, though. That way he would be less likely to change his mind later.

  ‘I have been told I’m passed over for Maxin,’ Brugan said flatly. ‘I know General Reiner’s dead, and it seems to me that I won’t live long when Maxin commands the Rekef.’ He shrugged, the bluff, honest soldier with the secret schemer plotting invisibly beneath. ‘I’m best served by making sure you succeed, and I have my people in place. They will be ready to move, assuming you can achieve all you boast of.’ This last remark was directed at Uctebri, who grinned at him with needle-sharp teeth.

  ‘The Emperor wishes a spectacle for the anniversary of his coronation,’ he said. ‘I can promise a show the like of which no one in the Empire has ever seen.’

  In Uctebri’s mind, the pattern was coming together. He was a man lying in wait, seeing fate’s pieces pass back and forth, lunging suddenly to change a certain course, plant a thought, poison a mind. Still, as he had said, there was a great deal to do. He presented only certainty to Seda and her allies, but there were still gaps in his logic.

  But here came a new part of the pattern, drifting into place with such neatness that he should have been suspicious. Still, he seized it, as a means to his end.r />
  So little time now until the end of an Empire and the beginning of something new: the rise of the Mosquito-kinden, the first bloody ember of their new dawn.

  It was just a matter of getting all the guests to the party.

  * * *

  Thalric’s transit had been swift. He had been out of Myna within two bells, leaving the racked city behind him. The automotive they had put him in was now making all speed to deliver the traitor into the Emperor’s own hands. For certain crimes, provincial justice was not enough. They therefore travelled all day, and some nights.

  How often have I travelled like this, and also had the chance to admire the scenery?

  It was a strange thought, but Thalric had been given a lot of thinking time recently, and he was making full use of it. It seemed to him that he had spent all the years of his life chasing about the Empire, or to points beyond, and always with a timetable weighing on his back. His service to the Empire had involved a constant race from one town to another. When he had been alone, he had been running ahead of the tide of imperial expansion, preparing the way so that its wheels might roll smoothly over the foreigners. When he had been in company, he had been constantly hauling on the leashes of his underlings, packing them off to where they were supposed to be as if they were reluctant children.

  But now he could sit back and relax. The road to Capitas provided a reasonable vantage point to watch the Empire go by, and it was only a shame that there were bars between him and the view. A further irony, for he had ridden with these prison automotives several times before – boxy, ugly, furnace-powered vehicles that jolted and juddered their way across the imperial roads on solid wheels – but he had never before been a passenger in the back.

  Tonight they had stopped at a waypoint, one of the hundreds of little imperial outposts that existed solely as a place to rest for messengers and other individuals travelling on the Emperor’s business. From overheard conversations, old habits dying hard, Thalric knew that they were now only a day away from Capitas, since they had made swift time on the imperial roads, and those leading to Capitas were always kept in the best repair.