Inversions (21 page)

‘Did I hear you telling the very young but very grand Lady Ulier your life history, Oelph?’ the Doctor asked, sipping at her goblet as we strolled.

‘I mentioned something about my upbringing, mistress. It may have been a mistake. She cannot think better of either of us for it.’

‘From the impression, not to mention the looks I got, I do not think she could think much less of me, but I’m sorry if she finds your orphanhood in some way reprehensible.’

‘That and the fact that my parents were Koetics.’

‘Well, one must allow for the prejudices of nobles. Your forebears professed themselves not only republican, but so god-fearing they had neither dread nor respect left for any worldly authority.’

‘Theirs was a sadly mistaken creed, mistress, and I am not proud to be associated with it, though I honour my parents’ memory as any child must.’

The Doctor looked at me. ‘You do not resent what happened to them?’

‘To the extent that I resent their suppression as a people who preached forgiveness rather than violence, I condemn the Empire. For the fact that I was recognised as an innocent and rescued, I thank Providence that I was discovered by a Haspidian officer who acted under the more humane orders of our good King’s father.

‘But I never knew my parents, mistress, and I have never met anybody who knew them, and their faith is meaningless to me. And the Empire, whose very existence might have fuelled an urge for vengeance on my part, is gone, brought down by the fire which fell from the sky. One unchallengeably mighty force brought down by an even greater one.’ I looked at her then, and felt, from the expression in her eyes, that we were talking and not just behaving as equals. ‘Resentment, mistress? What is the point of feeling that?’

She took my hand in hers for a moment then, and squeezed it rather as she had during the dance, and after that she put her arm through mine, an action that had fallen into disuse and even disrepute within polite society and which occasioned not a few looks. To my own surprise I felt honoured rather than embarrassed. It was a gesture of friendliness rather than anything else, but it was a gesture of closeness and comfort, and I felt just then that I was the most favoured man in all the palace, regardless of birth, title, rank or circumstance.

‘Ah! I am murdered! Murdered! Help me! Help me! Murdered!’

The voice rang out across the balcony. Everybody stopped as though frozen into statues, then looked round at a tall door leading from one of the smaller rooms next to the ballroom as it opened further and a half-clothed figure fell slowly out of it into the light, gripping the pale gold curtains that fluted back inside, where thin, girlish screams began to sound.

The man, dressed only in a white shirt, gradually rolled over so that his face pointed towards the moons. The pure white shirt seemed to glow in the moonlight. High on his chest near one shoulder there was a bright, vividly red mark, like a freshly picked blossom. The man’s collapse to the stones of the balcony was accomplished with a sort of idle grace, until his violent grip on the curtains and his weight overcame their supports and they gave way.

With that, he slumped quickly to the ground and the curtains came billowing, folding down upon him, like syrup on to the body of a struggling insect, entirely covering his round shape so that, while the screams from the room still sounded and everybody still stood where they were, staring, it was almost as though there was no body there at all.

The Doctor moved first, dropping her goblet on to the balcony with a crash and running towards the tall, slowly swinging door.

It was a moment or two longer before I could break the spell that had descended upon me, but eventually I was able to follow the Doctor through a crowd of servants most of whom suddenly and to my confusion seemed to be carrying swords to where the Doctor was already kneeling, throwing back the folds of curtain, burrowing down to where the twitching, bleeding form of Duke Walen lay dying.

‘Loose!’

The small catapult bucked, the arm indeed not much bigger than a man’s outstretched arm flicked forward and thudded against the hide cushion on the weapon’s tall cross-beam. The stone burred away through the air, arcing over the lower terrace and down towards the garden below. The projectile hit alongside one of DeWar’s cities, embedding itself in the carefully raked soil and kicking up a big puff of red-brown dust that hung for a while in the air, slowly drifting off to the one side and settling gradually back to the ground.

‘Oh, bad luck!’

‘Very close!’

‘Next time.’

‘Very nearly, General Lattens,’ DeWar said. He had been sitting on the balustrade, arms crossed, one leg dangling. He jumped off on to the black and white tiles of the balcony and squatted by his own miniature catapult. He pulled quickly and powerfully on the round wheel which ratcheted the creaking, groaning wooden arm back until it settled about three-quarters of the way towards the horizontal rear cross-member. The arm bowed fractionally with the strain of the twisted hide at its base trying to force it forward again.

Lattens, meanwhile, got up on to the same stone rail DeWar had been sitting on. His nurse held on tightly to the back of his jacket to prevent him from falling. Lattens raised his toy telescope to his eye to survey the damage done in the garden below.

‘A little to the left, next time, my lad,’ UrLeyn told his son. The Protector, his brother RuLeuin, Doctor BreDelle, BiLeth, Commander ZeSpiole and the concubine Perrund sat attended by various servants on an awninged platform raised to about the same height as the balustrade and overlooking the scene.

Lattens stamped his foot on the stonework. His nurse held him tighter.

Perrund, veiled in gauzy red, turned to the Protector. ‘Sir, I’m sure the nurse holds him well enough, but it makes my bones ache seeing him up there. Would you humour one of your older ladies’ timid foolishness by calling for a step-ladder? It would let him see over the rail without having to climb on to it.’

Foreign minister BiLeth frowned and made a tssking noise.

UrLeyn pursed his lips. ‘Hmm. Good idea,’ he said. He beckoned a servant.

The entire terrace of the garden two storeys below had been divided into two and modelled to resemble a landscape in miniature, with hills, mountains, forests, a large walled capital city, a dozen or so smaller cities, twice as many towns, many roads and bridges and three or four rivers flowing into a couple of small, about bath-sized lakes on each side and then on into a large body of water which represented an inland sea.

The sea was in the shape of two rough circles which just met in the middle, so that there was a short, narrow channel connecting the two great lakes. Various of each territory’s towns and cities lay on the shores of the two smaller lakes, with even more on the coasts of the two lobes of the sea, though in each case one territory had many more settlements round one part of the sea than the other, DeWar’s territory having the most round the lobe of water nearer to the balcony and the two catapults.

DeWar secured the triggering post on his catapult and carefully unhitched the winding mechanism, then selected a stone from the pile between the two model weapons and, once Lattens had climbed down from the balustrade, loaded the stone into the cup at the end of the machine’s arm. He repositioned the catapult according to chalk marks on the black tiles, stood, eyes narrowed, to survey his target area, squatted to adjust the catapult’s position once more, then took the stone out of the cup and reconnected the winding mechanism to let out a little of the strain before re-latching the triggering post.

‘Oh, come on, DeWar!’ Lattens said, jumping up and down and shaking his telescope. He was dressed as a noble general, and the servant who was tensioning and repositioning his catapult was in the uniform of a Ducal bombardier.

DeWar closed one eye and made a fearful grimace as he turned to the boy. ‘Har,’ he said, in a voice a rather unsubtle actor might employ when asked to impersonate a worthy rustic, ‘beggin’ the young massur’s pardin to be sure, sor, but I has got to be doin’ me adjussmints, don’t ye know, har!’

‘Providence, the fellow’s a fool indeed,’ BiLeth muttered. However, UrLeyn laughed, and BiLeth found it in him to affect a smile.

Lattens squealed with delight at this nonsense and put his hands to his mouth, nearly sticking his telescope into his eye.

DeWar made a few final adjustments to his catapult, then, with a look round to make sure Lattens was well out of the way, said, ‘Fire, me boys!’ and flicked the triggering latch away.

The rock whistled into the blue sky. Lattens howled with excitement and ran to the balustrade. DeWar’s rock landed almost in the centre of one of the smaller lakes in Lattens’ territory. The boy shrieked.

‘Oh no!’

DeWar had already landed a hefty projectile in the other small lake on Lattens’ side, swamping all the towns and the single city on its shores. Lattens had hit one of DeWar’s lakes too, but not the other. The rock sent up a great tall fountain of water. The waves from the impact rippled quickly out, heading for the shore. ‘Aargh!’ Lattens cried. The waves made landfall, causing the water first to retreat from the miniature beaches and ports and then rear up and wash against the flimsily made buildings of the lake-side towns, washing them all away.

‘Oh, unlucky, young sir, unlucky,’ Doctor BreDelle said, then in a low voice to UrLeyn added, ‘Sir, I think the boy grows over-excited.’

‘Fine shot, DeWar!’ UrLeyn called, clapping. ‘Oh, let him be excited, Doctor,’ he said to BreDelle in a lower voice. ‘He has spent long enough swaddled in his bed. It’s good to see a bit of colour in his cheeks again.’

‘As you wish, sir, but he is still not fully recovered.’

‘Mr DeWar would make a fine bombardier,’ Commander ZeSpiole said.

UrLeyn laughed. ‘We could use him in Ladenscion.’

‘We could dispatch him forthwith,’ agreed BiLeth.

‘Things go better there, don’t they, brother?’ RuLeuin said, letting a servant refill his glass. He glanced at BiLeth, who assumed a grave expression.

UrLeyn snorted. ‘Better than when they were going badly,’ he agreed. ‘But still not well enough.’ He looked to his brother, then back at his son, who was anxiously supervising the loading of his own catapult. ‘The boy grows better. If that keeps up I may take it as my signal to assume command of the war myself.’

‘At last!’ RuLeuin said. ‘Oh, I’m sure that would be the best thing, brother. You are our best general, still. The war in Ladenscion needs you. I hope I may accompany you there. May I? I have a fine company of cavalry now. You must come and see them train some day.’

‘Thank you, brother,’ UrLeyn said, smoothing a hand over his short grey beard. ‘However, I am undecided. I may ask you to stay on here in Crough and be my regent, in equal partnership with YetAmidous and ZeSpiole. Would you rather that?’

‘Oh, sir!’ RuLeuin reached out and touched the Protector’s arm. ‘That would be a singular honour!’

‘No, it would be a treble honour, brother,’ UrLeyn told him with a tired smile. ‘ZeSpiole? What do you say?’

‘I heard what you said, sir, but I can scarcely believe it. Would you honour me so?’

‘I would. If I depart for the borderlands. It is still not certain yet. BiLeth, you will advise my trio of proxies as well as you have me on matters foreign?’

BiLeth, whose face had taken on a frozen expression when he had heard what the Protector was proposing, let his features relax somewhat. ‘Of course, sir.’

‘And General YetAmidous is agreeable?’ RuLeuin asked.

‘He will stay if I ask him to, or like you he will gladly come to Ladenscion with me. I could use each of you in both places, but that cannot be.’

‘Sir, excuse my interruption,’ the lady Perrund said. ‘The ladder.’

A wooden library step-ladder was carried forward by two servants and deposited on the balcony’s tiled surface near the viewing platform.

‘What? Ah, yes. Lattens!” UrLeyn called to his son, who was still fussing over the degree of tension in the catapult and the size of rock to throw. ‘Here. This might be a better observation point for you! Position it as you see fit.’

Lattens looked uncertain for a moment, then appeared to take to the idea. ‘Ah-ha! A siege engine!’ He wagged the telescope at DeWar, who scowled at the ladder as the servants brought it forward, closer to the edge of the terrace. ‘I have the measure of you now, bad baron!’ Lattens cried. DeWar growled and retreated with comedic fearfulness from the steps as they approached.

Lattens climbed up the steps to the top, so that his feet were about level with the head of his nurse, who had remained on the balcony but followed him round as he’d ascended, watching anxiously. DeWar sidled up to the steps as well, glowering up at the boy.

‘That will do nicely, bombardier,’ Lattens yelled. ‘Fire when ready!’

The rock hurtled up and out and for a moment seemed to hang above the coast-line of the part of the inland sea which held most of DeWar’s remaining cities. ‘Oh no!’ Lattens cried.

The rules were that each player could drop only one stone into the inland sea. Lattens and DeWar each had, accordingly, one very large stone apiece to be used for this very purpose in the hope of swamping a handful of his enemy’s cities with one strike. The stone Lattens had caused to be lobbed on this occasion was a medium-sized projectile. If it landed in the sea, especially in one of the shallower areas near the coast, it might do very little damage on its own while at the same time preventing the boy from landing his one big rock where it might cause the most destruction.

The rock whacked into a coastal city, causing a small splash from the harbour but sending up a greater cloud of dust and scattering splintered wood and bits of delicate clay buildings across the landscape and splashing out across the water.

‘Yes, boy!’ UrLeyn said, jumping to his feet.

RuLeuin rose too. ‘Well done!’

‘Fine shot!’ called BreDelle. BiLeth clapped decorously.

ZeSpiole thumped his seat-arm. ‘Magnificent!’

DeWar clenched his fists and let out a roar of anguish.

‘Hurrah!’ Lattens yelled and whirled his arms about. He overbalanced and began to fall off the steps. Perrund watched DeWar dart forward, then check himself as the nurse caught the boy. Lattens frowned down at his nurse then struggled in her arms until she put him back where he had been standing.

‘Mind yourself, boy!’ UrLeyn called, laughing.

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Perrund said. Her hand was at her throat, just beneath the red veil, where her heart seemed to have lodged. ‘I thought he’d be safer’

‘Oh, he’s fine!’ UrLeyn told her with a sort of jovial exasperation. ‘Never you fear.’ He turned back. ‘Damn fine shot, lad!’ he shouted. ‘More of those, if you please, then the great-grand-dad rock in the centre of his sea!’

‘Ladenscion is finished!’ Lattens cried, shaking his fist at DeWar and holding on to the projecting spire of the steps with his other hand. ‘Providence protects us!’

‘Oh, it’s Ladenscion now, not the Empire?’ UrLeyn laughed.

‘Brother,’ RuLeuin said, ‘I cannot think which would be the greater honour, to be at your side or to help rule in your place. Be assured I shall do whatever you ask of me to the best of my abilities.’

‘I’m sure you will,’ UrLeyn said.

‘As your brother says, sir,’ Commander ZeSpiole said, leaning forward to catch the Protector’s eye.

‘Well, it may not come to that,’ UrLeyn said. ‘We may have news by the next rider that the barons are desperate to sue for peace. But I am glad you both accept my proposal.’

‘Gladly, brother!’

‘Humbly, sir.’

‘Good, so we are all agreed.’

DeWar’s next shot thudded into farmland, causing him to caper arid make cursing sounds. Lattens laughed and followed that with a shot which destroyed a town. DeWar’s next demolished a bridge. Lattens replied with a couple of off-target rocks but then hit a city while DeWar’s matching shots hit nothing but earth.

Lattens decided to use his biggest rock and attempt to obliterate most of DeWar’s remaining cities in one go.

‘That’s the boy!’ his father called. ‘Strike now!’

With much groaning and creaking from the coiled twists of stretched hide and a few groans and whimpers from DeWar, standing watching the arm of Lattens’ catapult was tightened to its maximum extension and sat arched with stored power.

‘Are you sure that’s not too much?’ UrLeyn shouted. ‘You’ll hit your own sea!’

‘No, sir! I’ll put other rocks on as well as the big one!’

‘Very well then,’ the Protector told his son. ‘Mind you don’t break the weapon, though.’

‘Father!’ the boy called. ‘May I load it myself? Oh, please?’

The servant dressed like a bombardier was about to pick up the heaviest rock from Lattens’ pile of ammunition. He hesitated. DeWar lost his comical expression. Perrund took a deep breath.

‘Sir,’ she said, but was interrupted.

‘I cannot allow the boy to lift such a large rock, sir,’ Doctor BreDelle said, leaning close to the Protector. ‘It will put too great a strain on his system. His frame is weakened by the long time spent in bed.’

UrLeyn looked at ZeSpiole. ‘I’m more worried about the catapult loosing while he’s loading it, sir,’ the Guard Commander said.

‘Generals do not load their own weapons, sir,’ UrLeyn told the boy sternly.

‘I know that, Father, but please? This is not a real war, it is only pretend.’

‘Well, shall I give you a hand then?’ UrLeyn called.

‘No!’ Lattens yelled, stamping his foot and tossing his redblond curls. ‘No thank you, sir!’

UrLeyn sat back with a gesture of resignation and a small smile. ‘The lad knows his own mind. He is mine, all right.’ He waved to his son. ‘Very well, General Lattens! Load as you will and may Providence guide the projectiles.’

Lattens chose a couple of smaller rocks and loaded them one at a time into the waiting cup of the catapult, panting as he lifted them up. Then he squatted, took a firm grip of the biggest stone and with a grunt lifted it to his chest. He turned and staggered towards his catapult.