A Conflict of Orders (An Age of Discord Novel Book 2) (17 page)

Five officers, their uniforms considerably more ornate than the captain’s, stepped out of the pavilion and bunched up beneath its billowing portico. Shocked imprecations barked out. Ahasz laughed. “Which one of you is Iko?” he called. “You?” He pointed at the man whose jacket bore the most silver braid—thick lines of frogging from neck to waist, several feet of lanyards looping from epaulets—and a sword with a basket-hilt of exquisite workmanship on his hip. Despite his soldierly attire, the viscount was no campaigner: his portly figure owed more to fine lunches than fierce battles, and his hair, artfully teased and coiffed, belonged in a salon not on a battlefield.

“Who in heavens are you?” Iko demanded angrily. “Can’t you see I have a damned battle to fight?”

“Go home, you foolish man,” Ahasz replied. “This is no game of soldiers.”

Iko brindled. “Damn you, sir. Identify yourself!” He lifted a hand and beckoned a squad of troopers to him.

Ahasz groaned. He had suspected the man was an idiot, but to have it demonstrated so forcibly… “Captain,” he prompted quietly.

The captain straightened. “My lord,” he said with some vigour to Iko. “My lord, this is his grace the Duke of Ahasz.”

Iko blinked. He opened his mouth and turned to his command officers. “What?” he said. “Ahasz?”

The duke snapped his heels together and sketched an abbreviated bow. The curtailed nature of it—social superior to inferior—was enough to cement Ahasz’s identity.

“Your grace, your grace,” Iko blustered. “What are you doing here? We were planning to attack the moment it turned light.”

“It’s light now, you buffoon,” replied Ahasz. “Tell your men to go home. I will rip them to pieces if you charge my barricade.” He spun about and, with a sweep of the arm, indicated the hundred Housecarls on the parapet and their three field-pieces. Turning back, he continued, “There is no way through, Iko. You can only lose. Take your soldiers and go home.”

“I cannot, your grace!” the viscount protested. “I am honour-bound to defend the Throne.”

Ahasz raised an eyebrow and smiled. “It took you two weeks to decide this? Never mind. Your fellow nobles are equally obliged, and yet…” He made a pantomime of looking to left and right with a hand to his brow. “I’m giving you a choice: leave now or your army will be massacred.”

Iko shook his head. “No. I am obliged to do battle. It cannot be helped —”

A voice spoke from the dark recesses of the pavilion. It was a flat, featureless voice, with the sound of something mechanical in it. “No, my lord, you would do best to heed his grace.” A glint of silver in the shadows accompanied the words.

Ahasz knew that voice. Or rather, he knew the
sound
of that voice. He strode forward, brushing rudely past Iko. His arm shot out, grabbed hold of cloth, and he hauled the speaker into the light. It was a man—although only his physique allowed him to be identified as such. Dressed entirely in black, he had the build of a quartermaster. His head was concealed within a smooth ovoid of silver, two small round black glasses on the front allowing vision.

“Involute!” hissed Ahasz. “You sent this buffoon here?”

The Involute had allowed himself to be pulled out of the tent—Ahasz had neither the strength nor the leverage to have done so.

“We should talk, your grace,” the Involute said.

Roundheads guarded the entrance to the command pavilion. Outside, Iko raged; his officers looked by turns outraged and embarrassed; but they could not gain entry. Within, Ahasz and the Involute sat, beneath a fancily-framed light-sheet which hummed at a barely audible frequency and gave out a warm summery glow, on either side of a table inlaid with marquetry depicting some historical victory. The duke glowered at the masked knight sinister, hating the breed for their manipulative conceits and despising himself for having made allies of them. Or had it been the other way round? Ahasz’s family had been conspiring against the Imperial Throne for generations—it had been folded into his childhood catechism. But when he’d chosen to break from his masters, had he approached the Order of the Left Hand, or had they come to him? He could no longer remember.

“You have some explaining to do,” Ahasz said. He slammed a hand down on the table-top. “You assured me the Palace defences would be out of action. I’m now stuck in this damned siege as a result.”

“The knights stalwart and knights militant,” the Involute said, “proved more shrewd than we had anticipated.”

“You seem to ‘anticipate’ very little these days. I seem to recall a similar reaction when the knights signet came to arrest me.”

“You bested them.”

“No thanks to you.”

“We would not have put this plan into action, your grace, had we thought you incapable.”

“Don’t posture, you faceless imbecile. I’m trapped in this valley with six thousand men because of your ineptitude. I’ve already lost over four hundred because you couldn’t meet your promises—
vital promises
! Am I to lose everything I’ve worked for, everything my family has conspired to achieve, because you could not
anticipate
?”

Ahasz pushed his chair back from the table, crossed his arms and glared at the Involute. If the glower had any effect, the Involute’s mask hid the response.

“Your grace—”

“You wished to speak to me for a reason,” the duke interrupted. “Go ahead.”

There was a moment of silence. The Involute spoke: “We suspect
Triumphant
may declare for the Emperor.”

“You assured me she would remain neutral.”

“And so Commodore Magwagi had said. We persuaded him that he should do nothing unless he felt bound to honour Edkar’s Promise—not that we thought it likely the Emperor would resort to it.”

“So what caused his change of heart?”

“The Lords of the Admiralty tell us you have control of the Navy Accounting Mechanism. You have threatened to destroy their financial records if they do not remain neutral.”

“I have.”

“Your grace, you should have told us you were planning such a tactic. It’s… far too dangerous. We would have advised against it. There’s no telling how the Navy will react.”

“Your advice,” Ahasz replied, “is of no consequence. While you skulk about in the shadows, I fight this war. I’ll not listen to someone who lacks the courage to stand openly beside me. While Skattia keeps his finger to the Mechanism’s switch, the Navy will dare nothing.”

The Involute shook his head. “The Lords of the Admiralty are pressing Magwagi to retake the Admiralty Fort. Their personal fortunes are also at stake.”

“Built on funds they’ve siphoned from the Navy Budget. Involute, I’ll not reward corruption. In fact —” He lifted a fist and clenched it in graphic illustration—“once I take the Throne, I’ll root it out in every institution—even if I have to put yeomen in charge of the ministries and bureaux.”

“Your attack,” the Involute pointed out, “would not have been possible but for the monies you paid out in bribes and garnish.”

“And you think I wish to leave myself vulnerable to the same tactic? Credit me with more sense, Involute. What I do, I do for the good of all in the Empire.”

A strange noise sounded from the lapel-mounted caster from which the Involute spoke. It was a moment before Ahasz identified it as a bark of laughter.

“You’re brave with other men’s sons, Ahasz. And free with other men’s money.”

“Look at me, you silver-headed fool! Look at me!” Ahasz snapped. He put a hand to the hilt of his sword. “Do I look as though I’ve been luxuriating in comfort behind the lines? And you know full well I’ve spent millions of my own crowns preparing for this assault. Never question my motives or my commitment. Or, damn it, I’ll run you through. I may not know who you are beneath that metal piss-pot you wear on your head, but I’ll warrant you know there are few can best me at sword-play.”

The Involute was silent a moment. His gloved hands sat on the table-top and he brought them together, interlacing the fingers. “Point taken, your grace. I apologise. But given the Navy’s impending involvement, I would have you do more than throw insults about. At the very least, I would like to know how you plan to counter an attack by
Triumphant
.”

“If the Lords of the Admiralty send a boat over the District, my swivels will shoot it down. If Magwagi is fool enough—and he wouldn’t have been given command of the Navy’s flagship if he were—to drop a detachment of marines into the District, my Roundheads will see to them. If they do
anything
, I will beggar the Navy.”

“Do not underestimate the Imperial Marines, your grace.”

Ahasz gave a grim smile. “Do not underestimate my Roundheads, Involute. I would pit them against any body of soldiers in the Empire and know they’ll win the day.” He looked up thoughtfully, then glanced back at the entrance to the pavilion. Yes, it would make an excellent example.

Getting to his feet, he crossed to the Roundheads guarding the entrance to the tent. “Get Colonel Tayisa on your caster and have him fire one of the cannons on Shield,” he quietly told the nearest trooper.

Turning back to the Involute, he said, “Come. There is something I’d like you to see.” He stepped outside.

Iko and his officers fell back at the duke’s appearance. Their expressions of outrage had been replaced by glumness. Whatever promises the Involute had made, Ahasz guessed, they had been purely for expedience’s sake. And Iko now recognised this. The viscount’s troops were no match for the fraction of Ahasz’s army manning the barricade and that fact appeared to have finally penetrated his skull.

“Gentlemen,” Ahasz said, smiling broadly, “kindly turn your attention to Sword and Shield, the fortresses of the Order of the Emperor’s Shield and the Order of the Sword. Impregnable, are they not? Let me show you just how invulnerable the knights stalwart and knights militant are.”

For five minutes, the group watched the two citadels.

“I see nothing, your grace,” said Iko, testily.

“Wait,” replied Ahasz.

An eye-searing bolt of light shot from one of Shield’s emplacements, hitting the Imperial Mile halfway between Iko’s army and Ahasz’s barricade. The road-surface erupted, throwing clods of earth and building-material high into the air. Dust, caught by a breeze, smeared across the gap between the outcrops, briefly obscuring the Housecarls manning the parapet.

Seconds later, another bolt fired from Sword, hitting the same spot.

And on the flag-poles atop each fortress, a banner began to rise. A winged snake, red, on a field of gold. The Vonshuan family device.

“Nice touch, Tayisa,” Ahasz said quietly.

“Dear Lords,” breathed the captain who had escorted Ahasz.

“Sword and Shield are
yours
?” asked Iko in disbelief.

“What have you done?” muttered the Involute.

The duke barked a laugh. “Taken the fortresses.” He pointed. “They are mine.”

The Involute rounded on Ahasz. “Do you know what you’ve done?” he demanded. “You’ve destroyed the reputation of the Martial Orders. While they were the most effective armed force in the Empire, the Emperor had a stick with which to keep the nobility in line. Now you’ve shown they can be defeated like any regiment.”

“Rubbish,” returned Ahasz. “It was only their direct loyalty to the Throne that made them fearsome.” He laughed again. “They were easy to take: a whiff of gas and —”

“
Gas
? Dear Lords.” The Involute put his hand to his sword.

Ahasz was faster. He pulled his blade an inch from its scabbard. “Few can equal me with a blade, Involute. And from your shape, you’re not one of them. Take care.”

The Involute lifted his hand and displayed it gloved palm out. “You’re a damn fool, Ahasz,” he said. “We have half a hundred recipes for gases in our archives and we keep them there for a reason. Personal weapons need troopers to wield them and troopers are expensive—to hire, to train, to keep. Put weapons of mass destruction in the hands of the nobility and you upset the balance of power.”

“You overstate the case, Involute. An air-hood will defend you against a gas attack. And cannon are far more destructive.”

“And restricted to the Imperial Regiments, Imperial Navy and Martial Orders for that very reason!”

“Things must change.” Ahasz turned away. “Things
will
change.”

With the Imperial Regiments and the Orders, the Emperor could field the largest and best-equipped army. But such an army was of little real use—difficult to transport, impossible to supply. In isolation, units of those forces could enact the Emperor’s bidding, the threat of the whole proving as much a deterrent as the unit actually in action. The mystique and respect attached to the knights stalwart and knights militant was only in part due to their effectiveness. Ahasz did not think their reputation would suffer much from this defeat.

Not that he cared a great deal: there was no surety they would obey him once he had taken the Throne.

“So,” he said, looking at each of the officers about him, “you can see that I control Sword and Shield. Iko, will you take your men and go home? Or do you need another demonstration? Involute, go to the Lords of the Admiralty and tell them to be ready for the day they bow their knees to me.”

He gestured for his Roundheads. “Now,” he said, “I go to fight my war.”

From the landing outside the hatch onto the upper-deck, Rinharte had an excellent view across the troop-deck. She had been looking for Marine-Captain Kordelasz, but he was neither in the ship architect’s office he had commandeered nor in the ward-room. The marines aboard
Tempest
had been drilling with the Duke of Kunta’s Imperial Winter Rangers and household troops, and she wished to learn of their progress. They needed to know the tactics used on a battlefield if they were to be effective on Geneza.

The fleet had left Kunta, chief world of the duchy, six days ago. It had stayed only long enough to recharge the ships’ topologic drives. This leg of the journey, from Kunta to Obok would take them only two weeks… although thirty-two days would pass in the real universe.