Cry of the Newborn (58 page)

'And the betrayal is total?'

'That is impossible to establish,' said Harin. 'It's reasonable to assume that significant forces from Scintarit are back in Atreska. We don't know their designation or loyalty. And there will undoubtedly be some, in the military particularly, that will resist Yuran's call. But his people are very loyal to him. Even those who opposed him during the civil war did not wish him removed from power but to be the ruler of an independent Atreska.'

'What a mess,' said Herine. 'I must get word to the Neratharn border.' She stared at Harin a while before asking the question she knew she must. 'I am relying on you for honesty over loyalty to your commander. Tell me, is the Exchequer still with me?'

'His loyalty to you and the Conquord is, and has always been, unswerving,' said Harin immediately. 'What he does, he does because he believes it in your best interests, though he knows you might not agree or understand. And if I was not injured, I would be with him still.'

She leaned back against the deep green upholstery. 'So, if I do not believe you I would be forced to arrest you.' 'That is so, my Advocate,' he replied.

'I think instead I will use your talents in the administration of this war we find ourselves having to fight. As soon as you are able, report to the basilica and find Marshal General Niranes. He will be in great need of your help. We are short on field knowledge in this city.'

'Of course, my Advocate. I'm honoured.'

The two of them shared a brief smile before the door to the chambers opened and in swept Chancellor Koroyan. 'Dismissed, Appros Harin. And thank you.'

He saluted and walked stiffly from the room. Koroyan glared at him on his way out and strode up to the throne. Herine put down one sheaf of papers and picked up another. This set was recently delivered to her by the palace guard who had escorted the Chancellor back to Estorr via Cirandon. Harkov hadn't travelled back as he had been instructed, choosing to stay in the little port town. Jhered's influence, it seemed, was everywhere.

'I had no idea it was such a long journey back from Caraduk, Chancellor.'

'I had unavoidable business in Cirandon on my return from the evil I witnessed in Westfallen,' she said, her tone haughty and patronising.

'And the fact of the beacon fires that you would have seen across the whole of that country, summoning you back here with all speed, didn't hasten your decision to leave at all?'

'I felt the Conquord best served by my presence in Cirandon until my business concluded.'

Herine sat upright and waved the parchments at the Chancellor. 'And what, in God's good name, am I to make of all this? Charges have been laid against you and your people. Murder. Brutality. Imprisonment.'

'Exaggeration by the hand of evil. The charges are laid by Vasselis who is more deeply involved in this crime than you could possibly imagine.'

'You deny the beating of Elsa Gueran, the Reader of Westfallen?' Herine read from the parchments. 'That you yourself cut her throat in front of the entire town?'

'She was guilty of heresy. She was executed as the law allows.'

Herine slapped her hand on the arm of the throne and shot to her feet. 'Damn you, Felice the law does not allow for barbarism. Even against heretics. Where are the trial papers? Where is the confession? And where was the proper conduct of execution? You are my Chancellor. What did you think you were doing?'

'I was doing your bidding, my Advocate.'

Herine gaped. 'I beg your pardon?'

'You asked me to clear Westfallen of heresy.'

'I asked you to
investigate’
shouted Herine. 'Big, big difference.'

'You told me there was evil there. You told me it couldn't continue.'

'Yes, and I told you to discover its scale and to bring to justice, those who had perpetrated it.' 'And so I—'

'My justice, Felice!' Herine slapped her chest above her breasts. Her voice choked. 'My justice. The justice of the Conquord on which we rely to keep our cohesion. Not the summary dispensation of Order law.'

'With respect, Herine, you were not there. The stench of it was everywhere. The whole town is involved.'

‘I
know,' said Herine. i have read the report. How does this excuse you from murder?'

i saw with my own eyes, these . . . these Ascendants call heat from the sky and a gale from the lightest breeze. And Vasselis and his son threatened me in order to let them get away. This evil must be utterly destroyed. It has no place under God's earth. My charges have been documented. Westfallen should be razed to the ground along with everyone in it.'

'And that is exactly what I wanted you to ascertain for me. I respect your opinion and your position. Or I did.' Herine paused and waved the parchments again. 'This is a detailed account. As I understand it, the Ascendants did not reveal themselves to you until after the murder of the Reader and the striking down of an old man. By you. Vasselis also did not interfere until that time. And in the mayhem following, which you sanctioned, seventeen unarmed citizens were killed. One of them a Tundarran cloth merchant. Surely an innocent.'

‘I
was being threatened,' said Felice.

‘I
t happens a lot to people who murder and assault others, you'll find.'

'By a heretic and criminal whom I demand you bring to justice,' she continued. 'Or I will do so myself.'

Herine shook her head, exasperation breaking over her. 'Have you no inkling of what you have done here? Are you really that ignorant, blinded by your zeal? I am the Advocate. I am the embodiment of God on this earth and you are sullying my reputation. What I have here in my hand is more than enough to see you locked up and tried for murder. A crime that brings a burning of the body and a scattering of the ashes to the devils on the wind.
You.
The Chancellor of the Order of Omniscience.'

The brief fear on Koroyan's face disappeared beneath contempt. 'You cannot believe the word of a heretic and consort of evil.'

'But you have as good as admitted your guilt,' raged Herine, unable to control herself for the moment. 'These are officially laid charges and I must hear them answered. As I will those you have lain against Vasselis and Westfallen's people. That is the law and I will uphold it.'

At last, the Chancellor calmed enough to be worried. 'Herine, you can't lock me away. You can't. Not while Vasselis runs free.'

Herine shook her head. 'There at least we agree. No, I can't. But not for your reasons. You will walk free because the Conquord is under threat and the leader of the Order must be present. The effect on morale if you were jailed would be incalculable. But don't take this as release, merely reprieve. There will be a reckoning one day.'

'And Vasselis?'

'For him too. And for now, he too will remain at liberty. He may indeed be heretic to the Order but I cannot do without the legions he will supply to the Conquord's defence.' Herine saw the anger return to Felice's eyes. 'Chancellor, you will confine yourself to aiding the efforts to save the Conquord. Neither you nor any members of the Order or its armed forces will go within a hundred miles of West-fallen unless I so demand it. Do not cross me on this or, so help me, I will have a new Chancellor, war or no war. Felice. I mean it.'

The Chancellor nodded. 'But it is already too late, my Advocate. The word is spreading through Cirandon and Caraduk and it will spread through Estorr and into the Conquord. The faithful citizens of this great land will not let this evil prevail. I do not need to go back there to know they will be destroyed.'

'Then you have more belief in our citizens' desire to see the Order's will done than I do. There is a Tsardon army coming. Backed by rebel Atreskan legions under Yuran's command. I think they will have more pressing matters, don't you?' Herine sat down, feeling suddenly tired. 'Act for me, Felice, not against me. The Conquord cannot afford you to be divisive.'

'The Ascendants are still out there,' muttered Felice. 'We cannot let them run free.'

'They too are out of your control and will remain so. They are not to be touched until I command otherwise.'

'You know where they are?' Felice's eyes widened.

Herine smiled. 'I am not the Advocate for nothing.'

Felice turned briefly towards the door. 'That was what Harin was here for. They are with Jhered, aren't they?' She spat the Exchequer's name.

'Who they are with and where they will go is no longer any of your concern.'

'Have them brought here. Have them tried. Found guilty. They above all must burn.'

'No,' said Herine quietly.

'You cannot say "no",' protested Felice, her volume rising. 'They are an affront to your person as they are to the God you represent on earth. They have to be put to death.'

'No,' she repeated. 'They will serve the Conquord.'

Felice jabbed a finger at her. 'That is not in your gift as Advocate. Those who act against God may not act for His people. I knew this of you. You would call yourself "Emperor" and make your rule inviolate.'

'Enough.' Herine clapped her hands once. 'I have heard enough of your wailing and your blasted piety. We are at war. And I would do anything to save my people from our enemies without and from the traitors in our midst. Anything.'

'Even if that means tilling the earth with evil that rails against God?'

Herine met the Chancellor's gaze. 'Even that.' 'Then you have my undying contempt.'

'When the Conquord is saved, we will return to this discussion. Until then, I am watching you, Chancellor Koroyan. Now, get out before I change my mind concerning your liberty.'

It was revenge but there were days when indulgence in such an undisciplined and dangerous emotion was the only way to ease the memories of the past. The life and desire had returned to Master Dina Kell's eyes, under Dahnishev's care. Her breastplate had been beaten back into shape and polished to a glorious shine by the smiths and she had been furnished with new weaponry and a Conquord-bred stallion.

And now she had been given temporary charge of a hundred cavalry from the
8th
Estorean, the Screaming Hawks. Roberto rode with them, under her command, and was immediately impressed by her skills as horsewoman and leader. She had taken a short time to brief them on her signals and commands and had trusted them to understand her first time. The Hawks cavalry responded.

Breaking into two, the Tsardan cavalry cantered down the low rise behind the enemy and moved smoothly up on either flank of the supply train heading towards the fords at Scintarit. They were precisely where the scouts had said they would be. Tsardon scouts lay dead a day to the rear, giving them no clue what was coming at them.

It was the sound of their approach that had finally alerted their quarry. A few Tsardon riders turned to face them and the men who walked beside the wagons began to form up a defensive line while the carriages tried to escape. Pointless.

Kell raised her spear, tied with a pennant, and pointed forwards. With a roar, the Conquord cavalry spurred their mounts to the full gallop and charged. Roberto felt the thrill course through him. He led the second group, riding hard up the enemy left. In front of them, Tsardon archers fired on the run, the shafts high and wide. There was no cohesion in the defensive line and when those same archers turned to run, most of the swordsmen went with them.

Roberto had one hand on his reins. The other gripped a javelin. Riding down the line of fifteen wagons, he cocked his arm and threw. The javelin struck one of the few who still faced them in his chest and knocked him from his feet. Spears flew to their right and head on, taking wagon drivers from their seats or biting into the backs of fleeing Tsardon.

Faster horses overtook Roberto, their riders turning in their saddles to fire. And when they wheeled away, they revealed foot soldiers just a few strides ahead. Roberto drew his sword, leant from his saddle and chopped down on the head of the first man who could only raise his bare arms to protect him. Another two strides and Roberto's sword swung back up, glancing into the helmet of another, sending him tumbling into the side of a wagon.

To his left, his cavalry had spread out and were shooting and cutting down runners. Across the train, Kell's riders peppered wagons with arrows and spears while others cruised around in a wide arc to sweep up escapees.

Roberto galloped past the lead wagon, pointed his bloodied sword to the right and began the wheel. Behind him, he heard the shouts and screams of the Tsardon about to die, and the whisper and thud of arrows, the thrum of bowstrings. He pushed his horse back to a run and made for the lead wagon. Driver and guard were still aboard.

He surged beyond them, executed a tight turn and raced up beside them. It was like his first days on campaign under General Gesteris. He hacked out with his sword, forcing the driver to sway away from him. An arrow flicked past him and into the chest of the guard who fell under the wheels. The wagon bucked and rattled. Roberto put a foot on the kicking board and swung his other leg over his horse's head. His weight carried him across the short gap. He grasped a wooden strut with his sword hand and thumped his fist into the driver's face. The man's nose bloodied and he fell back, scrabbling for a dagger. Roberto followed him, and a single sword thrust up under his chin finished him.

He grabbed the reins and slowed the wagon, turning it to the right and forcing those behind to slow and stop. He could only see a handful of the Tsardon still on the ground and fighting. And now to his rear, the cavalry fell on helpless drivers and guards. There were to be no prisoners. No witnesses.