Davarov turned a slow circle. The barrier walls and their flag masts were resplendent in the afternoon sun. The whitewash reflected brightly out over Atreska and the metal and wooden rails were clean and polished. Guards patrolled as far as he could see in either direction. Carts rattled along the roads built atop the walls, moving supplies, water and ammunition between watch towers. Concrete slopes led up to the walls every half a mile. All were busy with traffic. And in perhaps half of the positions available, artillery stood.
Behind the walls on Neratharnese territory, the vast cleared land stretched away out of sight. Along the length of the wall and for some four miles back into Neratharn, the land was managed to accommodate legion tents. Permanent buildings, barracks, administration, baths, cells, storerooms, stables and forges were away about a mile behind the walls. Directly beneath the walls, there was nothing. Cleared for troops, cavalry and artillery.
Davarov could see line upon line of tents. A temporary city was growing up. But the vast majority were refugees; the displaced with nowhere else to go, waiting to be found new places to live until the war was over. He saw legion standards in a concentration to his left, away to the south-west. And towards them marched his legions. Yet the ground should have been thick with soldiers. The sound of horses and hammers should have been a brutal assault on his ears this long after mobilisation was declared.
Davarov scowled and began to make his way to the administration centre.
'Where the hell is everybody?'
The business of making the Jewelled Barrier ready was moving at a pace Davarov could respect. People ebbed and flowed about him, intent on their tasks, scurrying hither and thither. There appeared to be urgency but no anxiety. Refugees would have brought myriad horror stories with them but it was only the idle hand that shook in fear.
Down on the ground,' he crossed the main road that led through the gates and away through the camps and into Neratharn. He walked quickly to the two-storey structure which formed the hub of the permanent structures. Very pretty it was too. Built on the lines of a classic Estorean villa, it boasted colonnaded entrances, formal gardens and even a fountain. He presumed water was fed from Lake lyre. He raised his eyebrows and blew out his cheeks. That must have been a pipe system long in the laying.
Guards at the walls to the compound thumped right fists into their chests. Davarov responded in kind, swept off his red-plumed helmet and strode into the cool of the villa. It was plain inside. The practical hand of the soldier had prevailed over the creative voice of the artist. The floor was bare stone, the walls likewise. Doors were heavy plain wood and the busts of military heroes were looking out from alcoves. Davarov approved. He wasn't one for fuss. Not in a military building.
He was directed to an open set of double doors on his left. They let in to a tactical room built for the purpose. Open shutters let in the light of the day and illuminated walls were covered with rosters and maps. Sloped tables carried more information, pinned down with miniature standards. The centre of the room was dominated by a huge table with a hole in its centre big enough to accommodate three men.
Upon it was a relief map of the Jewelled Barrier and the approaches from Neratharn and Atreska. Every single building was included. Tent symbols covered open areas. Rivers were marked and each hill and rise was to scale. Soldiers and civilians worked on the map, adding tentage and legion standard markers, pushing artillery into position. Around the walls, figures were written and rewritten as new information came in about troop and refugee numbers.
The door guard called attention and every one of the thirty plus in the room turned to Davarov. Cartoganev was at the table. He saluted and smiled but both were brief.
'We've got a problem, haven't we?' said Davarov, striding in and waving everyone back to their tasks. 'This place is crowded but not with soldiers.'
Cartoganev nodded. 'None are coming from Tundarra and Dornos. The Phaskareen too have turned their backs.'
'Gosland?' Davarov contained himself until he heard everything.
'Rumours of trouble up there but the Bear Claws are on station. Other Gosland legions are extracting themselves from Dornos still. They can guard our backs but nothing more.'
'Neratharn?'
'Full complement already here. The Avarnese are marching to the Estorean coast.'
'So what we have here is all we're going to get,' said Davarov.
'It looks that way.'
'And where is all the artillery?'
'Hasfort, for the most part,' said Cartoganev. 'It should be on its way. Most of it will reach us before the Tsardon and dead get here. That's about ten days from now.'
'Dare I ask about the Ascendants?'
'No word. I am told the sky and the Gaws are scanned for birds and flag messages constantly but so far, nothing. We can assume they will be sent here because Estorr will have worked out by now where the focus of the attack will come.' Cartoganev shrugged. 'We just don't know when.'
'Beautiful,' said Davarov. 'But we can only worry about what we have, not what we don't. We have a maximum of ten days before the enemy reach us. Let's get to work.'
Herine Del Aglios didn't say much to anyone and hadn't done for four days. She kept herself in her rooms, refusing entrance to anyone barring Vasselis and Tuline, both of whom were beginning to feel the strain of her undeniably failing leadership. So it was that Vasselis met the full Council of Speakers alone.
The sun blessed Estorr but it was a joyless warmth. With the siege in its fifth day, tempers inside the palace complex were shortening. Rationing had been harsh from day one, despite the apparent bounty all could see around them. Vasselis had no choice because he had no idea how long they would have to sit it out. At least in front of him was a chance to negotiate.
They sat in the palace itself, in one of the Advocate's favourite reception chambers. At the highest point of the palace, it was flooded with light and filled with images of Estorr's glory. Vasselis had chosen here because he wanted Herine to talk with the Council. Tuline was with her now, trying to convince her it was a sound idea. Vasselis did not trust to hope.
‘I
am pleased you have chosen to come,' he said once all five of them were seated around a circular table bathed in warm sunshine from open shutters surrounding them.
'The bounty of your table is somewhat lacking,' said Winds.
'Perhaps if you had come here on the first day rather than the fifth,
I
might have been able to spare you something. As it is ...'
Earth smiled indulgently, it is a situation simple to ease.'
in your mind, I am sure that is true,' said Vasselis.
Earth sniffed. 'Does perfume run short too?'
'No, my Lord Earth, merely water for bathing. We have plenty to drink and enough to eat for some considerable time.'
'But this is surely a ridiculous circumstance to have brought upon ourselves,' said Oceans. 'The Armour of God impelled to lay siege to the palace of the Advocate? How have we allowed ourselves to reach this state?'
‘I
suspect there are two schools of thought on that subject,' said Vasselis carefully. 'But we aren't hete to debate that. All we have to find is a resolution to the crisis. We all acknowledge it is disastrous to Estorr and the Conquord that it should continue. Mistakes have been made on both sides, we must come to a compromise that allows us to get on with the business of saving the Conquord from invasion. And Estorr must be evacuated.'
'Mistakes?'
Fire leaned across the table. She was an imposing woman, very much in the mould of the late Chancellor. Narrow-faced, with eyes that sunk through a man like a dagger through flesh. 'Mass murder has been committed by order of the Advocate and conducted by the Ascendants in this palace. She and they must be handed over to us for trial in public court. That is our position and it will not change.'
Vasselis spread his hands and let a smile play on his lips,
‘I
expected nothing less of you, of course. But you must expect me to say that I cannot accede to that demand. If a trial is to be conducted it must be by due process, not under duress as would be the case currently. Lift the siege and we will discuss the situation in open forum.'
Winds shook his head. 'We do not need to negotiate and you are in no position to demand that we do. Hand over the guilty or the siege will stand.'
'Let's not become aggressive,' said Vasselis. 'None inside this palace wished for the recent events to have taken place. The murders of innocents within and without these walls. The death of Felice Koroyan. None of us is blameless.'
'There is no stain on our hands,' said Winds.
'The siege cannot continue,' said Vasselis. 'You risk the whole of Estorr. You know what is coming.'
'We know the rumours shouted by the lone madman in the harbour. Easy enough to quell the citizens' fears on that score. And we know the lies an Ascendant will tell to save his skin. Really, Marshal, this will not do.' Earth was shaking his head. 'How many new ships were commissioned in the wake of the Tsardon invasion? Are we to believe that some fleet of the dead is about to enter Estorr harbour and therefore that our navy is incompetent to act in our defence? They are an arm of the Advocacy and the flags they fly and the words they pass are designed for a single purpose.
'But we are in charge of the hearts of the citizens of Estorr. And they are not as timid as you think, and nor are their minds so feeble as you would hope.'
Vasselis straightened. 'You are seriously telling me that you do not believe the Conquord to be under threat? And you are telling our people that the rumours of the dead walking are lies we have concocted to keep them in line? Every day the city remains populated, the risk increases. You must believe that. Maintain the siege if you must but please get the citizens out of the city. The dead
are
coming.'
Winds waved a hand. 'Oh, we're sure there are some border disputes with the Tsardon but when aren't there? But we will not let you use fear to drive the citizenry to follow your agenda.'
'No,' said Vasselis, throwing up his hands. 'We'll leave that to the Order.'
'It is the sort of reaction we expect from an Ascendant sympathiser.' Winds scoffed. 'We are we talking to you. Where is the Advocate?' 'Here.'
Vasselis turned. Herine stood in the doorway, Tuline next to her. Winds gasped, he couldn't help it. Vasselis was aware of others of the Council drawing in sharp breaths. He pushed back his chair and rose.
His heart pealed in his chest. His love for the Advocate, submerged beneath his anger, resurfaced.
'God-embrace-me, Herine,' he said.
She walked unsteadily towards them. Her hair was unkempt, lying lank down her back and around her neck. Her eyes red and painful. She wore no make-up and her face held a sick pallor. Her toga was stained. Her hands clutched at a roll of parchment, her nails bitten to the quick. She shrugged off Vasselis's attentions and pushed Tuline's hand from her shoulder. She took in the Council of Speakers and frowned. Vasselis thought she was about to burst into tears.
'It is not acceptable that this city and this Conquord tears itself apart,' said Herine, her voice trembling, robbed of its characteristic strength.
‘I
will not accept the citizens of Estorr being kept from truth and justice. I will not have them exposed to the risk of death. Crimes have gone unpunished. That cannot be allowed to go on.'
'Herine,' warned Vasselis.
The Advocate looked full at him for the first time since she had walked in. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she smiled.
‘I
have something for you, Arvan,' she said.
She held out the parchment and Vasselis took it. Herine kissed his cheek.
'You always were the most loyal of all my Marshals,' she said. A chill stole across Vasselis. He caught Tuline's confused expression. 'Herine, what's going on?'
'The citizens need a ruler they can trust. A strong Estorean whom they will follow into whatever is to come. The future of the Conquord must be in safe hands and people must know that those who rule them are accountable for their crimes. They must see that demonstrated, Arvan.'
'Herine, nothing rash. I won't have you make yourself a scapegoat,' said Vasselis.
‘I
think you are not quite yourself.'
Herine favoured him with another dazzling smile.
'Rash? No. I have thought of nothing else for days. And I am not a scapegoat, I am guilty, Arvan. Aren't I? I am responsible and the Ascendants must be spared because they have done nothing but follow my orders.' She put a hand on Vasselis's arm and clutched hard. 'You do understand that, don't you?'