The Stealers' War

by Stephen Hunt

  ‘And smashed a second time at Midsburg after the north rebelled,’ said Temba. ‘Your rebellion has failed, Prince Owen. And I address you by that title only as a courtesy. Your uncle has almost complete command of your country. The national assembly’s army is scattered and royalist soldiers are everywhere. I understand that King Marcus and his forces call you “the Pretender”. Are you pretending to still be in the field with a chance of victory as well?’

  ‘Damn right our army’s scattered,’ interrupted Jacob. ‘I was the one who scattered it. As long as the empire’s legions are still in the field, it’s suicide to meet the usurper and his allies in the open. We’re playing hit and run. Cutting the usurper’s supply lines, cutting his men’s throats and melting into the wilderness.’

  ‘So then,’ said Temba. ‘A bandit war fought by a man very close to being one himself ? We do not need to give sanctuary to brigands. We do not need a prince without a throne as an ally. There are dozens of houses across the border with tenuous claims to Weyland’s throne. If you dig back far enough in my ancestry, you’ll probably find some within my line’s blood.’

  ‘That’s only because our two nations have stood together as allies for as long as we’ve been able to call ourselves countries,’ said Prince Owen. ‘We’ve fought alongside each other against nomad hordes and pirates and every invader who ever threatened our peace, the peace of the Lanca.’

  ‘The articles of the Lancean League are clear enough,’ said Temba. ‘No interference in civil disputes. I have no more claim to tell Weyland who is to be its king or government than you have to tell Rodal who should be the next Speaker of the Winds. We will decide our coming election by ballot.’

  ‘While we decide ours with bullets,’ said Prince Owen. ‘I respect your wishes to stay out of this hideous conflict. When the fight was over my claim to the throne and my uncle’s, Rodal had a chance of neutrality. But the arrival of the Vandians has changed everything.’

  ‘So your self-interest would have us believe.’

  ‘It is true,’ said Nima. ‘I stood in Weyland’s capital with my father. I saw what the Imperium is doing in Arcadia. You did not.’

  ‘These Vandian forces are far-called, operating at the end of their range. Or do you deny that intelligence? The Imperium will grow bored here quickly enough. They are like the Kruls out on the plains. Savage children, but with better toys. A few raids to make a name and strike fear into the other clans, and the nomads retire to tend to their horses and their tents. Vandia is no different. The empire has no true interests to defend here.’

  ‘The Imperium was paying skel raiders to attack Weyland for slaves,’ said Jacob, ‘and making Marcus rich for looking the other way. The only reason the Imperium is here is to punish the slave revolt our Weylanders sparked when we escaped. The Imperium has to save face back home. Vandia’s like any bully. It can’t let someone punch it in the nose and walk away. It does that, every other victim’s going to wonder if a punch in the nose is an easier price to pay than regular tithes of flesh and silver to the emperor. And there’s a hell of a lot of victims around the empire . . . millions of slaves who help keep it rich and every neighbour unlucky enough to feel the imperial boot on their throat.’

  ‘Our skyguard is the skyguard of Rodal first and the League second. We would never try to enforce justice across the world. Such a task is clearly impossible. There are thousands of nations that are prey to better armed and more aggressive neighbours. Are we to intervene across Pellas? Let the Imperium fight and grow bored with fighting. Let the Imperium fill their slave markets with raids far-called from here.’

  ‘The Vandians may clear off in a year or so,’ said Jacob. ‘But Bad Marcus isn’t going anywhere. He’s got a taste of the Imperium’s wealth and what it can buy. He’ll be their puppet here until he dies, and after that, the country will be passed down to his children. You’ll be stuck with his rotten clan on the throne for generations.’

  ‘King Marcus cannot fight the entire League. That would be madness.’

  ‘What the hell else do you call his lust for absolute power?’ spat Jacob. ‘You’re right about me, Temba Lesh, I did serve as a mercenary officer in the Burn. And I’ve dealt with a thousand rulers like Marcus. Dukes and barons and princes and queens and emperors. Their titles were a mixed bag, but there was only a hair’s difference between the lot of them. Some of them I served, and a good many more I slew. You want to understand what you’re facing now, you take a ship across the ocean and serve in the free companies for a couple of decades. Eat blood and dust and then come back here. You’ll know the usurper for what he is and what he’s capable of.’

  ‘I cannot make another nation free,’ said Temba. ‘Only your people can do that. If you truly suffer a tyrant, throw him out. If we cross the border and fight for the north, then millions of Weylanders in the south will hate us and call us invaders. There will be blood between our two lands for generations.’

  ‘There’ll be blood,’ said Jacob. ‘The only mistake is being afraid to choose how and when it’s spilt.’

  ‘Rodal is not your sabre or your knife or your rifle. If I am elected Speaker of the Winds, your exile among us will be at an end. Our borders will remain closed for as long as chaos divides your nation. You will have your blood and your feud. But not one Rodalian life will be shed on either side of Weyland’s civil war.’

  ‘You’re a stubborn fool,’ said Jacob.

  ‘Were you called Quicksilver across the ocean for your words? They flow so easily.’

  ‘For deeds, not words. Hesitation’s a lot like death,’ said Jacob. ‘It’s always punished on the other side of the water.’ Just like good intentions.

  ‘The mountains break everything,’ said Temba Lesh. ‘That is an old saying here. I shall leave you to your council. There is nothing more from me that needs saying.’

  Prince Owen watched the elderly Rodalian politician rise proudly and leave. Then he turned to speak to Nima. ‘I need to know what your chances are of being elected Speaker of the Winds, Madam Tash?’

  ‘In truth, both sides are too evenly balanced to call,’ said Nima. ‘Many among us thirst to avenge the indignity of my father’s execution, the stain of dishonour. To have Rodal’s leader murdered for daring to speak his mind while under diplomatic immunity inside the territory of a trusted ally . . .’

  ‘I’ve had a good few pieces of paving hurled my way on the streets here for the crime of being a Weylander,’ said Jacob. ‘I know how furious your people are. We need to remind them that it was a Vandian noose around your father’s neck, not a Weyland one. How much support can Temba Lesh muster?’

  ‘Enough. Cooler heads and wiser council,’ said Nima. ‘Our two countries have been allies for so long, there are many who can imagine no conflict between us.’

  ‘They’ll imagine it well enough when the usurper and his imperial paymasters turn up here.’

  ‘You do not need to convince me,’ said Nima. ‘I saw what we face. There is not a day that passes when I do not go to sleep weeping over my father’s murder: but my support is not yours for personal revenge. I would not waste one Rodalian life on the conflict across the border if I thought your troubles would stay confined there. It is my judgement that King Marcus is not sucking in Vandian resources to build armoured regiments and a powerful new skyguard because he wants to mount fine parades in Arcadia and impress the crowds with fly-pasts. The plague that sickens you will sicken us soon enough.’

  ‘You will win the election for leadership of your government,’ said Prince Owen. ‘And we shall fight the sickness together.’

  ‘We’re not fighting it hiding out here,’ protested Anna Kurtain.

  ‘I agree,’ said Prince Owen. ‘We should be across the border, carrying the fight to the usurper.’

  ‘The fight is ongoing,’ said Jacob. ‘The north’s loyalty is still yours.’

  ‘But I am not there to be seen leading our people.’

  ‘Do you know how large the p
rice on your head is now?’ said Jacob. ‘Marcus understands if you die the rebellion dies with you. You’re barely safe here in Hadra-Hareer. You tried it the old field marshal’s way and all you got for your trouble was a crushing defeat at Midsburg. We can’t mass forces for regimental actions in the field. The usurper controls the air and the sea now. He probably would have even without the Vandians showing up to lend him their imperial legions. So we bushwhack blue-coats, and bleed them, and make them pay for every step they take over the Spotswood River.’

  ‘I can never win the throne like this. All you have to offer our people is endless war and suffering.’

  ‘All we need to do is outlast the south,’ said Jacob. ‘They’ll get bored soon enough and come after us here. Rodal is where you’ll see your regimental action. We’ll man the Walls of the World and break them against us like we’re shelling walnuts.’

  ‘Outlast the south? Have you not seen the reports coming across from Weyland? My uncle is seizing northern cities and stripping them of citizenry – shipping people across the Spotswood River to work as indentured labour in his supporters’ mills and manufactories. Vandia is claiming their share of our people’s flesh, too, taking thousands as slaves. We have to sally out from here and show the people of the north we can protect them. If we do not, we will lose all support.’

  ‘Every man and woman taken for a slave leaves a dozen behind with hate burning in their heart.’ And I should know because it’s a mirror of mine. ‘We can use that hate. It’s as good as bullets in the coming fight. We wait the south out and they’ll advance on us here.’

  ‘How can you be so sure what they will do?’ said the prince.

  ‘Because I’m going to keep on jabbing the wasps’ nest until the south comes buzzing at us. You need to ask the assembly-in-exile for permission for us to start blowing the Guild of Rails’ lines.’

  Owen stared at Jacob as if he had gone insane. ‘And the long guilds will place the guild-mark on the whole nation, withdraw entirely from Weyland.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m counting on. Bad Marcus can only move so many troops around using his skyguard. The rest have to travel by sail and rail. When the Guild of Rails stops running trains across Weyland, we’ll sink ships to block the northern harbours and make the usurper march every step of the way.’

  ‘A body cannot survive without arteries,’ said Nima, her look of shock a mirror of the prince’s.

  ‘Right now, it’s the usurper’s flesh all the way to Arcadia,’ said Jacob.

  ‘And after the war ends?’

  ‘That’ll be a good time to mend fences and sow a new harvest.’

  ‘I will not destroy my realm to save it!’ shouted Prince Owen.

  And with me in control of the northern army, you won’t have to. You’re too weak to rule and too strong to be ruled, my prince. That’s what I’m in command of the army for.

  ‘There is a name for such a wicked strategy,’ said Nima. ‘A scorched earth policy.’

  ‘I learnt my trade in the Burn,’ said Jacob. ‘How do you think the lands across the ocean picked up their nickname?’

  ‘I forbid it,’ said Prince Owen. ‘And the assembly will never permit it.’

  We’ll see. ‘You’d be surprised what the assembly will support. Take Augustus Sparrow for example.’

  ‘The speaker of the house is a good man.’

  ‘Your good man’s working real hard to arrange a royal marriage between Weyland and Ortheris.’

  Owen recoiled in shock. No, I didn’t think he’d told you. The prince made to stand up, but Anna stopped him. ‘I am not a piece of royal chattel to be bartered away.’

  Jacob pointed over the table towards Anna. ‘Marrying a commoner is for peace-time, Your Highness, when the newspapers need to be kept happy with stories of pleasant royal progresses. If Ortheris could be convinced to support the rebellion, we’d open up a second front at the other end of the country. There’s a lot of soft underbelly down in Gadquero and Ranelen. Under-defended prefectures with the southern army getting rowdy up here. You want to be King of Weyland, you’ll put your people’s needs before yours.’

  ‘You dare to lecture me?’

  ‘I dare to point out, Your Highness, that we need to do whatever we have to, to beat the usurper and send the Vandians packing back to their far-called empire. If you don’t have the stomach for it, you might as well pardon the usurper for assassinating your parents, gift him your throne and head off into exile somewhere a lot further away than Rodal. Southern end of the Lanca is nice and civilized, I hear. Good climate. You hide far enough away, your uncle’s knives probably won’t even track you and Miss Kurtain down there.’

  Owen glared at him. ‘What you suggest is insane. You would put an end to our kingdom to save it.’

  ‘I know what Bad Marcus is willing to do to hold on to the throne. I’ve had a bellyfull of it. I need to know what you’re prepared to do to take it from him.’

  ‘I will talk to the assemblymen and you will have your answer.’

  Jacob shrugged and stayed seated as the prince and his bodyguard left the chamber.

  ‘You should not talk to Prince Owen like that. It is dishonourable for a master to be spoken to in such a way by one of his servants,’ said Nima.

  ‘The boy was a Vandian slave in the sky mines for most of his life,’ said Jacob. ‘He should know better than anyone how hard it’s going to be to beat Bad Marcus and his imperial allies.’

  ‘He is trying to do the right thing for his people.’

  ‘This is a war, Miss Tash. Hard and dirty and grim. It’s bloody and ugly and I wouldn’t trade a single rusty bayonet for the prince’s good intentions.’

  ‘I see how the cost of it weighs on him,’ said Nima.

  ‘I do too, and not only for the prince. You’ve traded sides in this mountain parliament of yours to support war over peace. There are plenty in Hadra-Hareer calling you worse names than they call me. If it had been you supporting staying out of the war rather than that old man, your father’s vacant seat would be yours by now. You’d already be Speaker of the Winds.’

  ‘Power has no meaning to me, beyond how it is used to help my people,’ said Nima.

  ‘It seems I’m surrounded by honest, well-meaning folks,’ said Jacob. ‘After Prince Owen escaped from Vandia, he made similar noises instead of slipping a dagger in his uncle’s back. He hesitated and here we are. Blood feud and civil war.’

  ‘Prince Owen chose to seek justice rather murder.’

  ‘No, he chose murder. A whole nation’s worth rather than getting his hands dirty with just the one.’

  ‘I wish Sheplar Lesh was back here with the Vandian girl,’ sighed Nima. ‘We could end the murder. We could use the Lady Cassandra as a bargaining chip to open negotiations with the Imperium. If we handed her back to the empire as a sign of good faith . . .’

  Jacob snorted.

  ‘You find my words amusing?’

  ‘The emperor doesn’t give a shit about his missing granddaughter, beyond the slap in the face of imperial power her being held as a hostage represents. We could hand Lady Cassandra back smiling and happy, or we might send her back one finger a time in a diplomatic bag, and Vandia would press ahead what it’s planning to do here all the same.’

  ‘But you took her hostage? If you think that, in the name of the spirits, why?’

  ‘Lady Cassandra’s mother is Princess Helrena. Daughter to old Emperor Jaelis himself. It was the slavers working for her who buried my wife and stole my son. I wanted to give the woman a little taste of what she gave me.’

  ‘Merely for revenge?’ Nima shook her head slowly, sadly. ‘Sometimes I do not see why Sheplar followed you to Vandia.’

  ‘Sheplar didn’t follow me, he followed his honour. He was charged with protecting Northhaven and that duty flew as far-called as the taken. Same reason he’s out there in the steppes, trying to hunt down the little lady.’

  ‘If what you believe is true, Sheplar and hi
s gask friend are risking their lives for nothing.’

  ‘Man has a code. I wouldn’t call that nothing.’

  ‘And what do you have, Jacob Carnehan of Northhaven? Or should I ask that question of General Quicksilver?’

  ‘A reputation, Miss Tash. Never defeated on the battlefield, no matter what the odds or who the enemy.’

  ‘You lost at Midsburg.’

  ‘Oh, that was the prince and his old field marshal’s battle. I can only claim the few slit throats that Temba Lesh seems to take such offence at. But at least the right side is dying now.’

  ‘I do not care for your methods or your reputation. Skor Khrom,’ muttered Nima, ancient words to ward against ancient evil.

  ‘Nobody ever does. Until a couple of thousand bad sons-of-bitches with blades and guns turn up like evil always does. Then I’m everyone’s friend; until the very last day of the battle, when memories get awful vague on who it was who won the day and put the villains under the dirt. I’m the wretch that buries the night-soil, Miss Tash. You and Prince Owen can be as sniffy as you like about it, but I’ll ask one favour of you. Let me bury the shit good and deep for you before you start holding your noses.’

  Jacob followed the path to its end. There had been a wooden handrail to the right, once, protecting travellers walking the winding mountain trail from falling into the cloud cover drifting below. Now, much of the path lay broken, vanished from rock slides and erosion. Half an hour’s careful trekking from Hadra-Hareer. The single-storey pagoda perched at the end of the narrow track was in a better state. An open stone turret with a wooden roof decorated with elaborate carvings. Jacob could hear the wind thrashing against it like a drum as he approached. The man inside was holding on to the stone wall, his eyes fixed on the peaks opposite.