Mage's Blood

13

Contact with the Enemy

The Noros Revolt

The Noros Revolt of 909–910 was the most romantic but least successful of the post-Crusade resistance to Pallas’ exploitation of vassal states. As the Imperial debt burgeoned, lesser kingdoms were made to pay more. Noros gambled that a couple of quick victories would garner support from similarly afflicted neighbours, paving the way for a negotiated peace, but after initial setbacks caused by complacency, the Rondians overwhelmed the Noros legions. The scandalous surrender of the key city of Lukhazan merely hastened the inevitable.

The punishments were harsh: the king was imprisoned, authority was transferred to a Rondian-appointed governor and the land was occupied by Rondian legions. Noros has languished ever since.

ORDO COSTRUO COLLEGIATE, PONTUS

The Winter Court, Bres, Rondelmar, on the continent of Yuros

Noveleve 927

8 months until the Moontide

Trying to reason with Elena had been a stupid risk, Gurvon Gyle reflected resentfully. Did they think her such a fool as to surrender? It showed what limited intellects he was dealing with. But Lucia had been away – sainthood had its duties – and Emperor Constant had demanded he try. Without her, the emperor’s stupid order had been impossible to refuse. He’d tried to give away as little as possible, but who knew what she’d picked up?

He walked alone into another secret chamber, the natural habitat of the imperial schemer. Belonius was already there. He had distanced himself from Gyle the moment the news of Elena’s betrayal had reached them, but that was no great surprise. That was how Vult was.

All eyes watched him as he strode to the table. He’d flown nonstop for three weeks, most of the time in filthy weather. The crossing of the ocean had been particularly harrowing. The most frustrating thing was having to be here at all, but as soon as they’d heard of the thwarted assassination attempt the whole of Constant’s Inner Council started demanding his head – as if he could have known that hard-hearted Elena Anborn would do something purely out of compassion. It was unthinkable! And how the Hel had she survived Samir? The man wasn’t known as ‘The Inferno’ for nothing.

I gave them more than they could have achieved themselves, he thought sourly. I brought down Olfuss Nesti and delivered Brochena to them. The Dorobon are preparing to return. I need to be on the ground in Javon, supporting Sordell, dealing with Elena – and instead these lackwits have dragged me five thousand miles around the globe so they can put me on trial. How dare they!

He bit his tongue. Careful, Gurvon. No anger. Confidence. Determination. Emphasise the gains. Reassure. Survive.

The emperor sat illuminated on his throne. Everyone else sat in shadow, even Mater-Imperia Lucia. Gyle was careful to genuflect first to her, to acknowledge her supremacy – and buy her support. If that upset the emperor, too bad. ‘May I sit?’

She moved a hand. ‘Of course, Magister. You must be tired, having come such a long way.’ Her voice was cool and composed; no apparent pre-judging from her, he noted with appreciation. He looked at the shadowy figures. Dubrayle was absent, no doubt counting money in Pallas. Tomas Betillon looked cross at having been dragged all the way from Pontus. He probably feels he could have hanged me just as well there. Kaltus Korion was screwing trophy-girls in his monstrosity of a palace near Bres, so he’d not had far to come. He’ll be pissed off to be dragged out on a cold day, though. Grand Prelate Wurther looked back at him placidly. He probably doesn’t give a shit what’s decided as long as there is mulled wine afterward.

He glanced at Belonius Vult, who smiled serenely back at him and gave a small, encouraging wink. Ah, a krone either way, Bel? You never change!

Tomas Betillon started it off, ‘What the rukking Hel is going on, Gyle? You said your people would exterminate the Nesti – not half of them! You said we could trust that bitch Anborn and instead she’s killed your best man and gone native! So why haven’t we strung you up by the balls already!’

Wurther chuckled as if the governor had made a particularly amusing jest. ‘Tomas makes a good point,’ he murmured. ‘I thought you said you had people you could trust.’ He tutted and glanced at Belonius, his eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Of course, Gyle is your man, Vult.’

Belonius looked back mildly. ‘Gurvon has never let me down … before.’

Gyle looked at Lucia. ‘May I, Majesty?’ She inclined her head neutrally, giving him leave to speak, and he turned back to the men. ‘Gentlemen, no one was more surprised than I at Elena Anborn’s treachery. The fault is mine, for I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t understand that her loyalties were shifting. If I had realised, I would not have left Samir alone with Elena, for he was strong but she is clever. My lord Korion always says no plan survives contact with the enemy, and thus it proved, but it is how you recover from setbacks that marks you out. We must have the fortitude to strike back. We must have the adaptability to learn from our mistakes and deal with the new circumstances.’

He looked at Lucia. ‘“Battles are not won by strategies but by how you adapt your tactics,”’ he said, quoting Korion again. He noticed the general was actually preening.

‘So what is your plan to retrieve the situation, Master Gyle?’ Korion asked, far less hostile now.

Good, at least you’re thinking I might have a future. ‘I have new resources in the region already: six magi in place, more on the way. I have three major themes on the tabula-board, each independent of the others. One: Rutt Sordell will direct the Gorgio in crushing the Nesti. Two, I will insert an agent into the Nesti. Three, I will accelerate the Dorobon restoration. Let us not forget what has already been achieved: we have eliminated Olfuss Nesti, seized his capital and hold his second daughter captive. I ask for your confidence, for I know how to adapt and evolve my tactics to finish the job.’

‘So what you are saying really is, “Yes I screwed up, but you’re stuck with me, so trust me to fix it”, with some nice quotes to win over Kaltus,’ Lucia remarked dryly.

He felt himself redden slightly at this precise appraisal. Betillon growled in agreement. Korion’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, trying to work out if he had just been rebuked. Wurther looked watchful, trying to read Lucia’s mood. Vult’s face was smooth and unlined, serenity personified.

‘As it happens, I believe you are right, Magus Gyle,’ Lucia went on, to his immense relief. ‘I am a forgiving woman, and I believe that sometimes things go wrong just because they can. Utterly unpredictable events do occur to upset the best of plans. Your confident presentation here tonight has reassured me.’ Her eyes reminded him that he was utterly indebted to her. She whispered into his mind, <Well done, Magus. You didn’t panic and run. You didn’t try to hide or pass the blame. You have plans to turn the situation around. But if you fail again you are worse than dead.>

Betillon looked sour and the emperor disappointed, but everyone else was nodding appraisingly. He caught Vult’s eye. Belonius was smiling as if relieved for his friend. Sure, Bel. Thanks for everything.

‘So, what is your plan to ram that Anborn slut’s head up her own shit-hole?’ said Saint Lucia lightly. She tinkled with laughter at her own profanity. The men guffawed.

If she’s a saint, I am too. ‘Right,’ Gyle said, leaning forward. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do …’