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Authors: James Barclay

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straight for Atreska or Gosland but I couldn't risk assuming that. So I've sent as many horse and light infantry as I could to take messages to both Haroq City and Goscapita via Ruin's Pass. As long as the pass is kind to them they should make it before the Tsardon.'

Nunan coughed and a spasm of pain flashed across his face. He groaned and put his hand to his shoulder.

'Are you sure you're all right?'

'Never better,' he grumbled.

'What news of Gesteris?'

'No news,' said Nunan. 'The last we saw of him, he had taken his extraordinarii across behind us to give us room to escape. He was trying to keep the ford armies standing but he wasn't ever going to succeed. Let's pray he didn't leave it too late for himself. We saw the flames of the camps that night, you know. Would he have been in there? That's the question.'

'God will protect the great, and he is one of them,' said Kell, surprised for a moment by her lack of genuine concern for her general. She knew why immediately. The man led a charmed life. God smiled on him every day. Barring one, perhaps. 'Are messengers on their way to Del Aglios and Jorganesh?'

'In a manner of speaking. Word isn't going to reach Jorganesh for some time. I've got a platoon of cavalry hidden overlooking the Tsardon. They'll head south as soon as it's clear - probably have done by now. As for Del Aglios, there are a few at the Halor Falls. There's supposed to be a pass there. I don't trust them, Kell. There's not a will among them to do anything other than hide. Part of me agrees with them. But someone has to get word north.'

Kell shook her head. 'I've heard lame and obvious set-ups before, my friend, but none as glaring as that.'

'You will do it though, won't you?' Nunan frowned. 'You're hurt too, aren't you?'

'Nothing that stops me riding,' she said. 'But I'll check in with the surgeon before I go.'

Nunan smiled again. 'Thank you.' 'And what are you going to do?'

Nunan shrugged and wished he hadn't. 'Patch ourselves up well enough and keep on searching for survivors. Either cause trouble around here or head back to play some part in the defence.'

'Hmm. You should consider carefully which way you head. There's what, two hundred of you here at the moment?'

'Thereabouts.'

'You're easy meat for any sizeable raiding party. Make sure you have scouts ahead even for so few of you. And if it's looking bad come and find us. Del Aglios and Atarkis will both be heading south when they get the news. Better you're part of a larger force, eh?'

'I'll bear it in mind.' His expression sobered. 'Kell, there's one other thing. I don't know how much credence to give this but my scouts only report what they see. The prisoner columns going east are full of Tundarrans, Estoreans, Caraducians, the Phaskar . . . you name it but not a one from Atreska.'

'Coincidence?'

Nunan raised his eyebrows. 'And it's reported that Atreskan infantry and cavalry are marching west with the Tsardon.' 'Separate prison camps?'

'They don't appear necessarily to be prisoners at all,' said Nunan.

'Are you seriously suggesting mass defection?'

Nunan sighed. 'I don't know what I'm suggesting. But Del Aglios has two Atreskan ala with him. I just think he should know what we've seen, that's all.'

A thought rose unbidden in Kell's mind and she excused herself and hurried back to her horse. What had that man been doing at the burned-out camp? She found the saddle and bags and went through them. There was a message. Hardly surprising for a messenger. She walked the camp, looking for an Atreskan or Goslander, finding several before one who could read the Tsardon scrawl.

The man, with a patch over the eye that he had lost, read the message in halting fashion. He gripped it harder with every sentence and Kell's heart almost blotted out his words.

'It can't be,' she said. 'It can't be.'

'That's what it says, Master Kell. I'm sorry.'

'But will he turn, I wonder?' said Kell.

'Who, sir?'

'Yuran. Dear God protect us if he does, we could have war on Estorea's doorstep before dusas. And nowhere near enough there to defend us.' She stood up and looked down at the Atreskan. 'Pray our messages make it before the Tsardon do. Pray I reach Del Aglios quickly. And pray the guts of this message do not come to pass. Or you, my friend, will shortly be my enemy and all our lives will have been a waste of time.'

Chapter 32

848th cycle of God, 11th day of
Solasrise 15th year of the true Ascendancy

Orin D'Allinnius was glad to be home. Not the best of sailors, he had endured rather than enjoyed the
Hark's Arrow's
voyage to Estorr and had set grateful if unsteady feet on the dockside.

The full signed report was in Jhered's hands following their exhaustive discussions first in Cirandon and later on board ship. Jhered had dismissed both he and Harkov and had ridden away with his levium guard through the dark streets. He was on his way to the Hill, there to deliver their combined and, D'Allinnius thought, enlightened verdict.

Harkov had offered a horse to take him home but D'Allinnius had declined. The night was clear and warm, with a breeze from the sea keeping the humidity low. His villa was not far from the harbour anyway and he took a leisurely stroll home along lively streets. His bags would follow him the next morning.

With the games just over, the banners and friezes still adorned the streets and the verve in the city was palpable. D'Allinnius could feel it in the air and hear it in the hubbub from taverna and bar. He raised his eyebrows in new respect for the Advocate's decision.

D'Allinnius was a well-known figure throughout the city and particularly in his home quarter. His walk was interrupted by all those enquiring after his health and whereabouts these last days. Had he enjoyed the Games . . . wasn't solastro glorious this year and did he want to stop for a drink . . . He answered politely and refused any invitation, citing tiredness after a long day. Inside the gate of his villa, looking out across the manicured shrub gardens to his front door, D'Allinnius stopped and breathed deep and slow, soaking up the peace.

His staff knew to expect him and there were lights inside. There would be food on the stove and water heating for a wash. If he was lucky, they would also have found him a companion for the night. He could do with it. Abstinence didn't agree with him.

The villa was cool inside. Marble shone in the lantern-light and the sound of fountains echoed from the hall beyond his porch. Walking quietly through the hall, he saw movement in the colonnaded garden at the centre of his modest but comfortable dwelling. He greeted the servant who looked at him with an expression of some concern before directing him to his larger reception chamber. Apparently, he had visitors.

Feeling irritable, he bustled into the room with its rugs covering an austere stone floor and its windows open to the night. Three people sat together on straight-backed chairs opposite his own recliner. Food and wine sat untouched on the table between them. He felt a chill through him and a hard shiver of fear.

'Good evening, Orin. I trust your voyage was an uneventful one.'

'Chancellor Koroyan,' said D'Allinnius. 'What a pleasant surprise.' He found in himself the courage for acidity. 'Come to bless my safe return and continuing health, I presume. You really shouldn't have put yourself out.'

Koroyan didn't smile. She adjusted her robes while the two that flanked her, dressed in Speaker garb but looking nothing more than hired muscle, stared at him with undisguised menace.

'Sit down. I do not want to crane my neck to look at you.'

D'Allinnius thought to retort but instead responded meekly, nodding and sitting. He squeezed his hands together to mask their shaking. Now he faced her, his anxiety grew still further. There was a cold contempt in her eyes, mixed with a burning fervour. It was a dangerous combination and one he associated with denouncement or speeches on the evil of heresy.

D'Allinnius had always kept out of her way in the past. He was uncomfortable with the enforcement of Omniscient doctrine favoured by the Chancellor despite official sanction of alternative religions and atheist beliefs like his own.

'Let's be absolutely clear,' said the Chancellor.
‘I
don't like you or the meddling with God's earth you are permitted in the name of science and engineering. I have no respect for a calling that openly questions my faith as part of its remit. And as you will be aware, I am a very busy woman as my position demands.'
‘I
think the Advocate—'

'The Advocate is not here. I am.' The Chancellor paused and stared at him for a moment. 'You look scared, Orin. I find that disturbing. After all, I am only the Advocate's appointed representative of God on this earth. Surely you have nothing to fear from me.'

D'Allinnius's throat was tight. He reached out for the water jug and found himself pressing his lips together with the effort of keeping his hand steady.

'I did not expect you, that's all,' he said through dry lips. 'I don't know why you're here.'

'And that scares you, doesn't it, Orin? Someone of my importance sitting in your house awaiting you. I expect servants to be scared of me but the Advocate's Master Engineer? What must you have done to be so worried?'

D'Allinnius took a sip of his water. He was sweating. His mind wouldn't settle. He tried desperately to calm himself. But the more he focused, the more the reasons for the Chancellor's presence reared in his head. And he had been sworn to secrecy by the Advocate herself.

'I have done nothing,' said D'Allinnius. 'Barring carrying out my duties as ordered by the Advocate, who is my ruler. Not you.' That last was a whisper.

The Chancellor leaned forwards slightly. 'Do not attempt to hide behind the Advocate's toga. The laws allowing practice of other religions are there for political expediency in ill-educated border territories only. They do not apply here as they do not apply in Caraduk. And I will root out and destroy heresy against the Omniscient where I find it. That is my prime motivation.'

'Those laws apply across the Conquord, Chancellor Koroyan. You, like I, cannot choose when and where they are enforced.'

'Hmm.' The Chancellor's smile was ice.
‘I
think you will find you are mistaken in that, Orin. As you are if you think you can refuse my demands now. I should remind you that you are very much alone here. I am suspicious and I want answers.'

D'Allinnius took a deep breath.
‘I
have nothing to say to you.'

'Another mistake,' said Koroyan. 'I don't want to have to use coercion or, God-embrace-me, force but you make it so difficult.'

'There is nothing you have that would force me to speak against the vows I have made to my Advocate.' But he was quaking inside at the promise in Koroyan's voice.

'You think yourself immune because of your position but you are wrong. The Advocate might turn a blind eye to your proclivities but that does not make them any the less abhorrent.'

D'Allinnius crumbled inside. 'How could you—' He said before clamping his mouth shut.

'Oh, Orin, how naive you are. I am the Chancellor of the Order of Omniscience. Only the Advocate is closer to God than I am. No one denies me anything. Not for long. When I ask, people answer. Always.'

The Chancellor straightened her back and made a single gesture with her left hand. The two men rose and strode round the table to stand behind D'Allinnius.

'Abuse of minors is a crime against God and the Conquord,' she said. 'But I will do as the Advocate does if you tell me what I must know. I am charged with the sanctity of the Omniscient. Therefore I must know if heresy is being spoken or practised. I know you journeyed to Caraduk with Paul Jhered. I know you undertook an investigation. That the Order was not involved leaves me deeply concerned. Tell me. What did you find fluttering under the Vasselis banner?'

'It is not for me to tell you,' said D'Allinnius, swallowing at the constriction in his throat. 'And you cannot scare me with your threats. I am protected. Ask the Advocate.'

'But I am asking you.'

'I will not tell you.'

He felt hands, strong hands, clamp on to his shoulders. He smelled sweat and violence in the air. The Chancellor looked at him in mock concern.

'Please don't make me hurt you, Orin.'

He shook his head, scouring the depths of his dwindling courage. 'I will not tell you,' he repeated. 'Yes, Orin, you will.'

Herine was surprised at how pleased she was to see Paul Jhered. The Exchequer had breezed into the palace, demanding an audience. He was not changed and had indulged in little more than a perfunctory

BOOK: Cry of the Newborn
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