The Righteous Blade

16

The citizens of Jecellam, capital of Rintarah’s extensive empire, lived ordered lives. Theirs was a culture where many everyday activities were centrally directed. Most people were reasonably happy with this, unless they found themselves in conflict with the state’s will. Which was more easily done than the majority of them suspected.

As a result of being part of a rigidly controlled society, the average citizen expected to be housed, fed and protected by the state. They didn’t expect more than a nominal voice in how that state was run. They expected to be left to their own devices in the matter of accumulating wealth, property and magic, as long as they didn’t exceed the very strict limits imposed. They certainly never expected to have any contact with, or even a glimpse of, the elite that ran everything.

In the unlikely event of an ordinary person being allowed access to their rulers’ high-walled domain, they would encounter many things that seemed wondrous, even for a world drenched in enchantment.

One of the more modest spectacles was an impossible garden. It was unfeasible in two respects. First, it contained a profusion of flowers that simply shouldn’t have been blooming at

such an intemperate time of year. Second, there were plants-exotic, beautiful, bizarre-unknown to the most knowledgeable of horticulturists. Another peculiarity of this acre of abundance was that it occupied a perfectly defined circular plot. Outside an apparently invisible line, everything was dormant or withered, as would be expected in this season. It was as though a totally transparent dome encased the entire growing area, and different weather conditions prevailed inside.

The garden was being tended by a tall, gangling old man. He had faultless skin and a copious head of hair, but both looked markedly unnatural. On his knees, trowel in hand, he appeared in his element. But woe betide anyone who mistook him for a menial. Despite his humble gardening clothes and the soil under his fingernails, he was by far the most powerful man in Rintarah.

He was Elder Felderth Jacinth, head of the empire’s ruling Central Council.

Not far from his garden stood one of the many flagpoles scattered about the grounds. The ensign it bore showed Rintarah’s emblem: an eagle with spread wings, framed by lightning bolts. An approaching figure glanced at the flag as he walked the path that wound to the improbable garden.

When he stepped through the imperceptible barrier he was met by a wave of warmth and exquisite perfume.

‘Good day, brother.’

Jacinth looked up. ‘Rhylan. It’s not often I see you here.’

‘I thought you might have been at the strategy meeting.’

The ruler climbed to his feet and patted the dirt from his hands. ‘They function just as well without me at these routine gatherings,’ he told his younger sibling. ‘I preferred to spend time here.’

‘I’ve never understood the attraction this holds for you, Felderth. It’s not as though you use the Craft to raise these plants. You don’t even get servants to do the work.’

‘It’s important that I do it myself. It gives me a chance to think.’

‘And to partially quench your thirst for true creation? Given that’s largely a memory for us now.’

‘Or a dream of what’s to come again.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Another thing about being here, working with the soil, is that I gain some empathy with the common people.’

‘Why ever would you want to do that?’ his brother wondered.

‘Because they’ve gone wrong somewhere. Or we have. The masses don’t have the deference they used to. Some of them even dare to take up arms against us.’

‘Then we must meet such insolence as we always have, with force.’

‘We bear down on them ever harder, and make punishments more severe, and it only seems to inflame them. We know Gath Tampoor is doing the same, with no better results.’

‘Think how much worse it might be if we didn’t. Society hasn’t collapsed. We don’t have anarchy.’

‘I find myself more in sympathy with those who think it might be best to simply eradicate the masses that serve us and start afresh. As Nature dampens down life to make ready for a new season.’

Rhylan looked to the summer garden. ‘Unlike you. You’ve suspended the seasons here.’

‘Which is exactly what we should have done with those we rule.’

‘How do you mean, brother?’

‘Our interests would have been best served by keeping them tightly yoked. Instead we’ve allowed them to develop greater and greater leeway. So much so that they now presume to challenge us.’

‘They don’t have an inexhaustible supply of lives to throw away in their cause. We will endure.’

‘But that isn’t all, is it? We’ve rarely had so many imponderables facing us at the same time. Not only are increasing numbers resisting our rule, there’s also this business of the northern warlord and his expansion. We’ve had no word from the expedition we sent. Doesn’t that concern you?’

‘You’ve changed your tune on all this. Not long since you were practically dismissing such problems as insignificant.’

‘I’m beginning to think that perhaps I was wrong. I edge towards the doubters’ camp, Rhylan.’

‘I still think Gath Tampoor is more culprit than victim as far as the disorder’s concerned, as you used to. And it wouldn’t surprise me to find that they were behind Zerreiss in some way, too. It’s the old, old story, brother; the struggle between the empires carries on, it just takes different guises.’

‘That’s enough of a worry in itself.’

‘Don’t underestimate the strength we can bring to bear against them. Rintarah is no sickly weakling. Our might is incomparable.’

‘Yet in respect of the insurgents in our midst, we’re like a bear that’s trodden on an ants’ nest. For all our might we haven’t rooted them out.’

‘We will. You forget who we are. What we are.’

‘You make no mention of the most worrying development; the disturbance to the matrix. There was a particularly severe episode just in the last few days, as you know.’

‘Again, why shouldn’t this be Gath Tampoor’s doing?’

‘Because

we

can’t do it. It’s beyond the powers we now have, and we’ve no reason to think they’re any more advanced.’

‘What, then?’

‘There are two possibilities, both of which I find troubling. One is that some unknown, unsuspected power is respon

sible for interfering with the magic’s flow. In some ways that might be the worse option, as it implies something we didn’t anticipate.’

‘And the other possibility?’

‘I fear that Caldason might have become aware of his capabilities.’

‘Now we get to it. That damnable situation has been a thorn to us for far too long. But why should he have woken to himself now and not before?’

‘Who knows? That may not be as important as recognising that he

has

.’

‘He can’t have entirely realised his potential, or we’d certainly know it.’

‘Perhaps not, but he could be progressing by degrees. As a man might learn some new skill.’

‘With respect, Felderth, what I see are several unrelated events. Thugs making trouble on the streets, as ever was; a barbarian warlord, latest in a long line of ten-day wonders; and an anomaly in the matrix, which in itself isn’t entirely without precedent. None of it necessarily adds up to a threat to us. I repeat: remember who we are.’

‘Take this,’ his brother said, plucking a red rose from its stem, ‘and see in it the fate of our rule if you’re wrong.’

Rhylan took the flower and breathed deep of its gorgeous aroma.

But the instant he stepped outside the barrier the rose turned black and crumbled to dust.

The constant glow of magic that emanated from any heavily populated area usually outshone the night sky. But this evening the luminescence was less bright than normal, perhaps because the colder weather meant fewer people on the streets. And the rooftop of the safe house where Caldason and Serrah sat was on the edge of Valdarr, well away from

the frenetic centre. Consequently they had a rare view of the stars.

‘And how do your people account for them?’ Serrah asked.

‘The Qaloch tell several stories of how the stars were created.’

‘There isn’t one accepted version?’

‘No. Qalochian religion and myths aren’t carved in stone the way they are in most other places. There tend to be various versions of our legends.’

‘Which do you like best?’

‘About the stars? My favourite’s the one about Jahon Alpseer. Ever hear of him?’

She shook her head.

‘He’s one of the Qaloch god-heroes who presided over the birth of the world. Back then, there weren’t any stars, because the gods saw no need to hang other lamps than the Sun and Moon. That was mostly because they were too busy fighting a constant war against an equally powerful race of demon deities. The prize they fought over was the fate of the human race, which is to say the Qalochian race, as it was our story. The demons wanted to exterminate the small number of men and women the gods had made; they feared this new lifeform would multiply until it threatened their power.’

‘What happened?’

‘Well, quite a lot, actually. But the climax of the story tells how Jahon faced the lord of all the demons, Pavall, in a duel they fought across the sky. Jahon was getting the worst of it, because Pavall was a night demon who could conceal himself in shadow and strike out of the darkness. So Jahon used his sword, which was made of ice incidentally, to pierce holes in the black veil that shrouded the world. The holes let in the great light from outside, exposing Pavall, and Jahon slew him. Jahon left the holes so that no other demons would ever be able to hide in darkness.’

‘It’s a charming story. A bit…martial.’

‘Yes, it’s typically Qalochian. These days, at those rare times when Qalochians meet, it tends to be told ironically.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, the way things have worked out, we say that Pavall must have won after all.’

‘Oh. Gallows humour.’

‘Don’t knock it. What is it they say? Better to laugh lest you cry.’

‘That isn’t restricted to Qalochians, Reeth. Though there’s been precious little to laugh about lately. But let’s not get into the whole Kinsel thing again. Thinking about it’s too depressing.’

‘You looked a bit downcast when we came away from the hill. Was it something Tanalvah said?’

‘Yes, but it wasn’t about Kinsel. She mentioned Eithne.’

‘I thought that was a subject you didn’t like talking about.’

‘There are times when it’s a taboo with me,’ she admitted. ‘But they tend to be triggered by something I wasn’t expecting, like when I was in the temple. Generally I can live with it, though I can never make promises about the future. I was doing a pretty good job of not thinking about Eithne until Tan brought it up.’

‘There is one thing I’ll confess to being curious about,’ he ventured carefully. ‘It’s not really about your daughter, but-’

‘Spit it out. If it’s too close to the heart I’ll tell you.’

‘Eithne’s father.’

‘Ah. A flesh wound rather than a direct hit.’

‘You can tell me to mind my own business.’

‘It’s all right. There’s not much to say about him, actually. He was like me. Well, he was in some ways; mostly he wasn’t. I mean we were alike in being professional fighters. Only with

him it was the army. He was really ambitious and rose fast. Fought in a number of campaigns and gave a good account of himself. Then the fool went and got himself knifed in a brawl in a tavern. No, it didn’t kill him. He ran off with the healer who nursed him through it. She was older than me, too, a bit. Eithne was five or six when it happened. He didn’t want to be tied down with a child, you see. At least, that’s what he said.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No need. I was too young, and we wanted different things. It didn’t take me long to realise I was better off without him. Though I’ve often wondered whether it would have gone better for Eithne if she’d had a father around.’

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have got you talking about this. It must be painful.’

‘No, not at all. Talking can help, in fact. That’s something I’ve taken a long time to understand.’ She brightened. ‘Let’s make a pact. From now on, either of us can ask the other about anything. And if it’s something we don’t want to talk about, we just say. That way we can stop tip-toeing.’

‘All right.’

‘Good. Now, about the gold consignment.’

‘I walked into that, didn’t I?’

‘It’s the best service you can give to the Resistance right now, Reeth. Besides, it occurs to me you might be better off out of Bhealfa for a while.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t look at me like that. I know you can take care of yourself, but a couple of things have been bothering me. First, do you remember finding your file when we torched the records office? With all the pages torn out? I’ve seen how bureaucracies work, when I was with the CIS, and I’m telling you that kind of thing doesn’t happen without authority. Somebody very powerful has an interest in you, and they didn’t want anybody seeing the contents of that file, least of all you.’

‘I have to admit that has been puzzling me. What else?’

‘The meld. She might or might not be connected to it, but if there’s even a slim chance she is, it starts looking as though you’re attracting some unhealthy attention.’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time. I’m officially an outlaw, you know; I’d expect there to be records on me.’

‘I bet if we’d gone through every file in that place, yours would have been the only damaged one. It

means

something, Reeth. Though I’m damned if I can think what.’

‘I don’t know that it adds up to a need for me to leave the country.’ He held up his hands. ‘All right, all right. It’s true I’ll probably go anyway-’

‘Great!’

‘-but I’m not a man to run, Serrah. Not for anything.’

‘I know

that

. It’s one of your more endearing qualities.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t get smug about it. You have less endearing ones, too.’

They smiled at each other.

A trapdoor in the roof lifted and a head appeared.

‘Quinn?’ she said.

Disgleirio climbed out. ‘There’s news.’

‘About Kinsel?’

He nodded. ‘They’re going to put him on trial, and soon.’

‘That’s something, I suppose,’ Caldason argued.

‘Not really. He’s to be allowed no defence witnesses and no one to speak for his character, and the whole thing’s going to be in private with a single judge presiding.’

‘A show trial,’ Serrah murmured. ‘A veneer of justice with the verdict decided before they start.’

Disgleirio shrugged. ‘What else did you expect? There’s another piece of news, and I think it should interest you especially, Serrah.’

‘Tell me.’

‘We know who the VIP from Gath Tampoor is. It’s your old boss at the CIS. Commissioner Laffon himself.’

The blood drained out of her face and it took a moment for her to say anything. Then she whispered, ‘I think any chance Kinsel might have had just died.’