The Righteous Blade d-2

by Stan Nichols

  ‘Nothing’s happened to make me believe Zerreiss is any less of a threat,’ the Ambassador returned indignantly. ‘Everything we hear suggests he’s continuing to make inroads.’

  ‘I don’t know why you get so worked up about it. If the barbarians want to make a sport of slaughtering each other, that’s their affair. They can never offer any danger to the empire.’

  ‘Again I hope your optimism proves well founded.’

  ‘You won’t have to rely on my opinion alone. The northern expedition should be reaching its destination soon. Then you’ll see this Zerreiss for what he is. Any word, by the way?’

  ‘None. And according to our agents, nothing’s been heard from the Rintarah expedition either.’

  ‘Communication’s always poor from the barbarous lands. Everything gets delayed coming that far.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘There you go again with the anxious face.’ He took a gulp of his drink. ‘Trust me, Ambassador; you’ll see that all this is just a rash of pinpricks.’

  Talgorian’s attention was on the far side of the room. He nodded that way. ‘Talking of pinpricks…’

  Bastorran looked, seemed uncertain for a second, then spotted the mark. ‘Ah. Dulian Karr.’ There was no warmth in the recognition.

  Karr stood with his back to a wall. It bore the ubiquitous emblem of Gath Tampoorian rule: the dragon rampant, scales shimmering, belching gouts of glamoured flame. Karr was conversing with a small group, but it was obvious even from a distance that he wasn’t really engaged with them. He wore a simple black cloth eye-mask, contrasting with the elaborate facial decorations all around.

  ‘That speech he gave earlier,’ Talgorian recalled, ‘wasn’t far short of a disgrace. All that guff about sympathy for the so-called dispossessed…’

  ‘Close to seditious, if you ask me. Sentiments almost worthy of your own.’

  The Envoy’s face darkened. ‘I do

  not

  appreciate that kind of comment. As I keep stressing, it’s only in methods that we-’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know. Take a jest, man. Your views are simply misplaced; Karr’s border on treachery.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a back-handed compliment,’ Talgorian replied coolly. ‘At least you appreciate the difference between my concerns about strategy and Karr’s flirting with anti-social elements.’

  ‘You know it’s more than flirting. We’ve suspected him for years, and so have your people. He’s a sympathiser, a fellow traveller. Maybe more than that.’

  ‘Suspicion’s one thing, proof’s another.’

  ‘Circumstances have changed. We have a freer hand, remember. And in a couple of weeks he’ll be stepping down from his patricianship. That office gave him a measure of protection. Once he goes, the restrictions go.’

  ‘He’s not a man to underestimate. It takes a certain cunning to sail so close to the wind all these years.’

  ‘He’ll be given every opportunity to stumble, believe me. If he has so much as a hair out of place-’

  ‘He’s seen us.’

  Skirting the outlandish dancers, Karr made his way to them. They greeted him with sham smiles and hollow salutations.

  ‘Patrician,’ Talgorian drawled. ‘An excellent speech.’

  ‘Very enlightening,’ Bastorran echoed.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Talgorian indicated the spare chair. ‘Please, take a seat.’

  ‘So,’ the diplomat said, ‘you’re finally retiring from public service. After…how many years is it?’

  ‘Too many, it sometimes seems.’

  They gave expedient, empty laughs.

  ‘And how will you fill your days?’

  ‘I expect I’ll have plenty to occupy me, Clan High Chief.’

  ‘No doubt your passion for the downtrodden will continue to find expression,’ Talgorian suggested. ‘Perhaps in the form of charitable works?’

  ‘I hope I’ll always find time for the less fortunate.’

  ‘I see you’re showing solidarity with them tonight in your choice of dress,’ Bastorran commented, in reference to Karr’s plain, unglamoured mask.

  The patrician smiled thinly. ‘I think it behoves the more privileged to set an example.’

  ‘By looking impoverished ourselves? You’re to take no offence from that yourself, of course.’

  ‘Of course, Ambassador. The example I had in mind was one of modest consumption.’ He saw their puzzled expressions. ‘Look about you.’

  Bastorran sniffed. ‘I see men and women of substance. The example

  they

  hold out is the possibility of a better life for all.’

  ‘Prospering under the wing of the empire,’ Talgorian added, almost piously.

  ‘How many here have earned it?’ Karr wondered.

  ‘Ever the controversialist, eh, Karr? Public life will be the poorer for the lack of your witticisms.’

  ‘I don’t think the destitute are laughing too heartily.’

  ‘Your beloved downtrodden,’ the paladin leader came in irritably, ‘would be best employed improving their lot through honest hard work.’

  ‘Most would like nothing better. Assuming work existed, and they didn’t risk being arbitrarily rounded-up and brutalised every time they stepped onto the streets.’

  ‘If they’ve done no wrong they have nothing to fear.’

  ‘They’d say they’re treated as enemies of the state regardless.

  Not all of them are necessarily insurgents, you know.’

  Bastorran fixed him with a hard stare. ‘You’d be surprised who is, Patrician.’

  ‘I’m sure your sentiments are commendable, Karr,’ Talgorian interjected, ‘and we can all applaud your humanitarian instincts. Let’s charge our glasses and toast your retirement.’ He made to beckon a waiter.

  ‘No,’ Karr replied. ‘Thank you, but…it’s been a long day and I have others to see before I can leave.’

  ‘You are looking a little out of sorts, if you don’t mind me saying.’

  ‘It’s nothing. Overwork. You know, trying to clear everything before I retire.’

  ‘It wouldn’t do to jeopardise your health,’ Bastorran said, an unmistakably barbed edge to his words. ‘Retirement was a wise decision. Now you can lay down your burden and let others worry about the welfare of the people.’

  ‘Indeed.’ He gave each a small nod in turn. ‘High Chief. Ambassador Talgorian.’ Then he left.

  As they watched him moving through the crowd, Talgorian breathed,

  ‘Scandalous.’

  ‘Wouldn’t so much as take a drink with us. As for his views…Free expression’s all very well, but-’

  ‘He looked ill, don’t you think?’

  ‘I’m a great believer in the inner man determining the outer. Nine times out of ten it’s a guilty conscience that brings about the appearance of poor health.’

  ‘At least he’s abandoned what little power his position gave him.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean he’ll stop fighting for lost causes. The man’s a born meddler.’

  ‘You’ll be keeping an eye on him, then?’

  ‘Oh, we will, Ambassador, we will. As no doubt you will yourself.’

  Talgorian leaned closer. ‘You are aware that there have been attempts on his life?’

  ‘More than a few, I understand. And with all the hallmarks of being officially sanctioned.’

  ‘Not by my people. Or any of the other departments of state that I’m aware of.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I suspect they were the work of the CIS.’

  ‘There’d be no mishaps if the paladins were given the job.’

  ‘No doubt. My point is that the CIS aren’t supposed to operate beyond Gath Tampoor’s shores. Legally, that is. But I’ve been hearing rumours that their methods might be exported to the protectorates.’

  ‘What’s your meaning?’

  ‘Should Karr be the victim of assassination, my superiors, your employers, could hardly kick up a fuss w
hen one of their agencies has been trying the same thing.’

  ‘Interesting. I’ll bear it in mind.’ He surveyed the bizarre throng. ‘We’re neglecting our duties. Better get back to it.’ The touch of a finger against his medallion re-formed his mask. An elongated snout appeared, the eyes grew slitty, yellow-green scales formed.

  ‘Excellent guise,’ Talgorian commented.

  ‘It is rather fine, isn’t it?’ Bastorran admired himself in a nearby wall mirror.

  The Ambassador reactivated his own mask. Grey fur erupted, the nose blossomed, whiskers sprouted.

  Bastorran glanced at his companion. ‘I meant to ask.’

  ‘Hmmm?’

  ‘Why a rat?’

  ‘Irony.’

  6

  Recently imposed public order laws tended to operate as a two-tier system. Gath Tampoorians resident in the Bhealfan colony simply ignored them. A similar laxity was allowed citizens of Bhealfa who enjoyed power and influence.

  The same licence applied to enforcing the curfew. Those of wealth and rank were free to dally.

  The weak and insolvent had law-keepers on their tails.

  As the hour of prohibition drew near, the streets swelled with people trudging homewards. In a manufacturing quarter of the city, the human surge broke against the prow of a building that stood at the confluence of two main roads. Outwardly, it was an administrative block, a hive for bean counters, and anyone entering would have found this to be the case. Now its clerks and scribes had joined the exodus, and it was deserted.

  Its several floors were in darkness, and one, cunningly fashioned from loft space, was hidden. Gaining entry to it from within was complicated, not to say potentially lethal, given its glamoured defences.

  A small group was gathered there.

  ‘Where the

  hell

  is Disgleirio?’ Caldason grumbled.

  ‘Probably held up by the crowds,’ Karr told him. ‘He’ll get here no quicker for your pacing. Join us.’

  Sighing, the Qalochian took a seat opposite Karr at the large wooden table. At one end sat Kutch, looking uncomfortable and fiddling with a pair of his makeshift eye covers. Serrah was present too, but isolated from the rest, her chair set well back. The expression she wore was unreadable.

  ‘While we wait,’ Karr said, ‘I’ve got something you might find interesting.’

  He pushed a finger into his right ear. For a second he twisted and dug with it. Then he brought out a tiny object, held between thumb and forefinger. It resembled a pearl, and had a similar milky white sheen. He flung it at the nearest wall.

  The little globe didn’t bounce or shatter. It stuck as though resinous, and immediately began to flatten and spread. When it matched the size of a large serving platter it stopped expanding. At that point it opened, like the petals of a flower. Having doubled its diameter it opened again and again; more and more petals rapidly unfolding until the wall became a shimmering, pearly white screen.

  ‘A much more detailed schematic,’ Karr explained. ‘Better than anything we’ve had before.’

  Lines and contours, dips and bumps came into focus. A three-dimensional representation of an island formed. It was roughly kidney shaped, only a kidney that had been gnawed at one end by a hungry dog. Its outline showed cliffs, sandy beaches, inlets and bays. Offshore, in the rippling ocean, reefs and rocky outcrops appeared.

  The island had two harbours, on its western and southern sides. There were green pastures, hills and woods. A river snaked from the east, branched and rejoined the sea on the north-eastern shore. Tracks criss-crossed, and more substantial roads sneaked from the ports. A scattering of buildings

  was visible here and there, and near the island’s centre was what could have been a town.

  ‘The hope of the world,’ Karr announced. ‘Batariss.’

  Serrah stirred from her introspection. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s the proper name for the place. Though not many seem aware of it.’

  ‘I remember when that’s all it was known as,’ Caldason said.

  ‘You would,’ Serrah told him. She probably meant it humorously. He decided to take it that way.

  ‘Our thought was to rename it,’ Karr revealed; ‘call it something that has more relevance to its new status. Perhaps after one of the Resistance martyrs, like Sab Winneba, Kryss Mirrall or-’

  ‘I’m sure they’re deserving,’ Caldason cut in, ‘but face it, Patrician; nobody’s going to call it anything but the name that’s stuck.’

  ‘The Council feel this would be a good opportunity to honour someone who made the ultimate sacrifice for the cause.’

  ‘Very commendable. But don’t you think we should concentrate on getting there first?’

  Kutch broke the ensuing silence. ‘I always assumed it was named after its shape or something.’

  ‘No,’ Karr replied, ‘its function.’

  ‘I didn’t know they actually mined gems there.’

  ‘They don’t. It’s called the Diamond Isle because of the wealth it generated.’

  ‘So how come we got the chance to buy it?’ Serrah asked.

  ‘It’s been in decline for years. It was at its height as an attraction when Reeth here was a child. If it still produced riches on that scale we wouldn’t be in a position to buy it. As it is, the present owner’s had enough and is looking to retire.’

  ‘How can an island that size be private property? I thought only the empires’ rulers had the kind of clout needed to own real estate on that scale.’

  ‘The island’s status has always been an anomaly. Way back, a century or more, it was as much a pawn for Rintarah and Gath Tampoor as Bhealfa is today, or any of the other states they squabble over.’

  ‘What happened to change that?’ Kutch asked.

  ‘Both sides came to feel it was too insignificant a prize to shed blood over. Then somebody, probably one of the old bandit clans, came up with the idea of turning it into a pleasure retreat. That was during one of the empires’ virtuous periods, when gambling and prostitution were frowned on. Batariss filled the need. Another factor, of course, is that it’s not officially in anybody’s territorial waters, though it’s nearest to Bhealfa. But in practice, the island operates because whichever empire happens to be in control of this part of the world has let it.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  Karr scrutinised his tiny audience. ‘You must have heard all this before.’

  Serrah shrugged.

  ‘It fills the time until Disgleirio deigns to show himself,’ Caldason remarked.

  ‘I don’t know any of this,’ Kutch said. ‘I think it’s fascinating.’

  ‘All right,’ Karr went on. ‘Why have the empires left Bata-the Diamond Isle to its own devices?’ He took a reflective breath. ‘Well, there’s some evidence that in the early days, when the place was much more exclusive, the empires’ favoured supporters were sent there as a reward. Later, when it got easier for more people to go, the official view seemed to be that it served as an outlet for the masses’ pent-up resentments. Or at least it did for those who could afford it. And they tended to be the well-heeled, educated classes, who

  might organise opposition; the sort the rulers wanted to keep sweet. Then again, it’s rumoured that the authorities take rake-offs from the island. Unofficial taxes, some call them. Who knows why the Diamond Isle’s been left alone? I think it’s probably just unfinished business.’

  ‘They’ll finish it quickly enough when we start moving over in droves,’ Caldason warned.

  ‘Not if we do it artfully. And once there’s a sufficient number of us on the island…’

  ‘I know. We’ll make it too costly in blood to recapture. It’s a hell of a risky strategy.’

  ‘Of course it is. But we’ve planned meticulously. If the move goes as it should-’

  ‘That’s more likely to happen if you’ve got everybody behind you.’

  ‘I know the island strikes many in the Resistance as an unlikely
choice-’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Serrah contributed, ‘a pleasure resort seems no more insane than anywhere else you might have picked.’

  Karr ignored the gibe. ‘Look at it.’ He nodded at the gleaming map. ‘It’s perfect. About a tenth the size of Bhealfa, easily big enough to support a substantial population. It’s got fresh water and ample wood. There’s plenty of arable land. And it’s defendable. In time, we can make it completely self-sufficient.’

  ‘In time,’ Caldason echoed. ‘It’ll be a race, and if you think Gath Tampoor’s going to sit on its hands while you do it-’

  ‘It’s a gamble. We know that. The whole plan’s predicated on us beating some long odds. But what would you have us do otherwise? Give up and let our conquerors roll over us? Abandon any hope of ever throwing off their shackles?’

  ‘Nobody’s saying that,’ Serrah reminded him. ‘Anyway, is this the time to be going over it all again?’

  ‘You’re right. The owner’s going to be here any minute, and we have to show a united front.’

  ‘You’ll get no dissent from me,’ Caldason promised.

  ‘It would be nice to believe that.’ Karr smiled. ‘Phoenix himself has cloaked this place against eavesdropping. You’re our second line of defence, Kutch. I wouldn’t have asked you to do this, except for the chronic shortage of spotters. Particularly with the…difficulties you’ve been having lately.’

  ‘Are you saying this meeting could be dangerous?’ Caldason asked.

  ‘No. But let’s not lose sight of the kind of man we’re expecting. Are you all right about this, Kutch? Because if you’d rather…’

  ‘I want to help. But if I do sense something, what do I do?’

  ‘Just shout out loud,’ Caldason told him, ‘we’ll do the rest.’

  ‘Does our visitor know what we want the island for?’ Serrah wondered.

  ‘I don’t think he cares,’ Karr replied. ‘Though he’s not stupid. A shabby opportunist, yes; but not stupid.’

  ‘Can’t wait to meet him.’

  Above a set of robust doors at the loft’s far end, a glamoured crimson orb began flashing.

  ‘You could be about to get your wish.’