Moontide 02 - The Scarlet Tides (15 page)

Ramon and Kip both nodded: one man in ten executed, by lottery.

Prenton shuddered in horror at the memory. ‘The survivors had all amassed pay and pensions cancelled. The rankers had to start from scratch.’

Ramon and Kip looked at each other. ‘So the men of this legion are all mutineers?’

‘Most. Some have left, new men have come in, but we’re a punishment legion now, so the recruits are no better. The officers were all disgraced, of course, so me, Duprey, Coulder, Fenn, even poor Tyron and Lanna who spoke against the rampage, we were all bound over to serve another twelve years in the Thirteenth. The taint remains, you know. The rest of the army think we’re rabble.’ He shook his head grimly. ‘Anyone with connections avoids us like lepers. Kore knows where we’ll be assigned this time. Anyway, pleased to have you with us, lads.’

‘The legate said we’d have more magi allotted to us.’

Prenton laughed. ‘Indeed. Right now all those who were too lazy or badly connected to get themselves assigned earlier are pleading, begging, offering their virginity or selling their firstborn to get into one of the glamour legions. What they don’t know is that those positions went months, even years ago. The only places left are in the workhorse legions.’

‘How do they decide who goes where?’

Prenton smiled wryly. ‘Bribery and cock-sucking, the usual.’ He waved a hand. ‘Pick a bunk and settle in. Each legion gets fifteen magi: five command positions and ten battle-magi. We’ve got Legate Duprey, Secundus Marle – he’s a nutter, so watch him – Coulder and Fenn, we three, plus the chaplain and healer, so six more to reach full complement. They’ll whine like buggered nuns when they’re allotted to us – it’ll be as tedious as all Hel.’

*

They spent the afternoon settling in and washing their kit while Nyvus came and went, officious and efficient. At dusk they sat outside with Prenton on fold-up chairs, watching the blood-red sunset which promised good weather to come.

Many of the legions had already gone, and more marched every day. In two days it would be them, stepping out onto three hundred miles of stone, trusting in the engineering and gnosis of Antonin Meiros and his Ordo Costruo. It was a daunting thought, despite the numbers who’d already done it and survived. Tales of freak storms in the ocean swamping the Bridge and washing away swathes of men ran riot through the ranks, though no one could say exactly which legions had supposedly perished.

They met Coulder and Fenn briefly, though neither was interested in speaking of anything but dicing, but Baltus Prenton was more than happy to chat, mostly about the low quality of recruits this year: petty criminals with no respect for authority, bankruptees trying to work off debt and minor dissidents punished for saying and doing the wrong things – crimes not serious enough to warrant incarceration or execution. ‘It means the bastards question every order,’ Prenton grumbled goodnaturedly. ‘At first, anyway. Then the centurions lash a few; that knocks the rebellion out of them.’

‘Can we count on them in a fight?’ Ramon asked.

Prenton snorted amiably. ‘A fight? Dear Kore, this is a
Crusade
, lad, not a war. There’ll be no
fighting
, only endless days of marching around from ruin to empty ruin. There may be a bit of looting and pillaging thrown in, if we’re lucky. The Keshi don’t fight back. They
run and hide.’ He pulled a face. ‘The biggest risk is their God-awful food.’

Ramon thought the camp food unpalatable enough. They ate slowly, trying to savour a mush that definitely contained potato and beans, but little else that was identifiable. There was wine – of sorts: a Brician chardo that was almost certainly off. But Prenton was pleasant enough, and gradually Kip and Ramon relaxed.

‘So who is Duprey?’ Ramon asked Prenton.

‘The legate? He’s a bankrupt merchant. Well, that’s how he ended up in the legion, but he’s been army for fourteen years,’ Prenton replied. ‘He was a battle-mage during the mutiny and was put in charge afterwards when the previous bastard used his political connections to get a pardon. Like us all, he’s hoping he’ll get enough plunder from this Crusade to get out.’

‘Is there really plunder to be had?’

Prenton’s nose twitched. ‘Last time the Kirkegarde and the Imperial Guard got it all. They confiscated whatever they could get, even from their own men.’

‘But you’re all back for more,’ Kip commented.

‘What choice is there? Anyway, Pallas have put Echor in charge this time. That lifted the musters: Echor will look after the provinces.’

‘Will he?’ Ramon asked doubtfully.

‘Perhaps. If he thinks it’ll give him a chance to bully Constant. You know the story, right? Duke Echor is Constant’s uncle, but only by marriage. Emperor Hiltius made him Duke of Argundy when he married Hiltius’ sister. But then Hiltius died—’

‘Was murdered,’ Ramon put in.

Prenton put a finger to his lips. ‘We never say that, even amongst friends.’ He wiped his mouth, then lowered his voice even further. ‘Magnus took the throne and led the First Crusade before he too “died”. His eldest child was Princess Natia, by his first wife Alitia, who died in childbirth. By then he had a son by his second wife, Lucia: Constant, whom he despised. Natia and her husband, Echor’s brother, had been groomed for the throne by Magnus, but when Magnus died, Lucia turned the tables on them. She had the husband executed and
Natia imprisoned and Constant’s arse on the throne in time for the Second Crusade, and the rest, as they say, is history.’

Ramon knew all this, but Kip clearly had been only vaguely aware. ‘Is Natia still alive?’ the Schlessen asked.

‘Reportedly, but no one has seen her for years. She was imprisoned when she was fifteen –she’d be in her thirties by now. She’s probably gone mad, if she’s even still alive.’ Prenton raised two fingers. ‘Constant has two young children, Cordan and Coramore, so Echor has been bumped down the succession. He favoured Natia, obviously, but when Constant came to the throne, Echor was too powerful in Argundy to dismiss. So they’ve been treading very softly around each other.’

‘How did Echor get the command?’ Ramon asked.

‘I imagine he flexed some muscle or made some trade-off behind the scenes,’ Prenton replied. ‘Some are saying he could come back from this Crusade with money and glory enough to seize the throne. That’s the real struggle going on, not fighting the Keshi.’

*

Next morning, Ramon took Kip aside and explained his role –
look tough but keep your periapt hidden, and if anyone gives trouble, hit them hard –
then went out into the rainstorm looking for the man his paterfamilias had ordered him to find.

At the fringes of Portage XXVI were hundreds of huts, tents, awnings and shelters of all descriptions. The wind whipped through them, water poured through the gaps and every face was an etching of avarice and misery. This was where the deals were cut, for the goods the army didn’t officially want but couldn’t do without.

‘I’m looking for Giordano,’ Ramon told a perfumed boy in a woman’s silk dress who sashayed towards them through the tangle of guy-ropes.

‘Giordano’s no fun,’ the boy purred, batting long lashes and stroking his chest. ‘I’m fun.’

Ramon kindled his periapt. ‘Giordano,’ he repeated more firmly.

The boy’s eyes went round and he shot backwards. ‘Red Snake sign, that way.’

‘Filth,’ Kip growled in Ramon’s ear. ‘Should be castrated for going about like that.’

‘He probably already has been. Come on.’

They found a tent, larger than most, with a red snake painted on a board. There was a sour-looking young man with olive skin and dark hair sheltering beneath the awning. Ramon greeted him in Rimoni, asked for Giordano, gave his name, then, more importantly, he gave his master’s name. The youth took their weapons, which was expected, but he missed the periapts, for he wasn’t expecting them. Then he led them inside.

Giordano was a big man of middling years, running to fat but still visibly strong. A young Rimoni girl was shaving his chin with a straight-edge razor, her strokes carefully avoiding his impressive moustaches, which sat like twin black rats on his upper lip, long twisted tails jutting sideways.

‘Master, he says he’s Ramon Sensini, of the Familioso Retiari,’ the youth said, bowing as he spoke.

Giordano waggled a finger: ‘wait’ in the Silent Tongue. The youth bowed again and left. Ramon and Kip watched the girl finish her shaving. She washed the man’s cheeks with scented water, kissed his cheek and went to a wine decanter and began pouring. ‘My daughter, Regina,’ Giordano told them, smiling while his eyes measured them. He extended a hand, with a signet ring. ‘Welcome, Sensini. Pater Retiari has written to me of you.’

Ramon kissed the signet ring. ‘My friend is Fridryk Kippenegger. He will stand by the entrance.’ He took a seat while the Schlessen slouched back to the entrance and flexed his muscles idly.

Ramon accepted the glass of wine Regina offered but didn’t drink. He took her in with a glance: she had her father’s plumpness and looks, including a hairy upper lip and careful eyes, but she was paler than her father, and there were flecks of gold in her deep brown hair.

‘My Pater sends his greetings,’ he said to Giordano, switching to Rimoni.

‘Pater Retiari is well?’

‘He prospers by day and sleeps well at night,’ Ramon said, words
that signified security and strength. His paterfamilias controlled large tracts of countryside about the town of Retia, using his influence over the supply of the largesse of the land to hold the town to ransom. In Rimoni and Silacia the agrarian populace far outweighed the urban, and though the lands were owned by hated Rondians, it was beholden upon all good Rimoni to steal from them. The real wealth of Silacia was controlled by familioso heads like Pater Retiari.

‘That brings me great joy,’ Giordano rumbled dourly. ‘Though his proposals are not so easy as he may think.’

Ramon spread his hands. ‘What could be easier? You control much of the flow of poppy into Yuros. Pater merely wishes to remind you that such of these goods that enter his lands must also be subject to his tariffs.’

Giordano looked mournful. ‘The sad truth is that they do not pass through his lands, amici. They pass
over
his lands.’ He made an expansive gesture to the skies, mimicking the flight of a windship. ‘So no tariff.’

‘The sadder truth,’ Ramon replied, ‘is that my Pater has intercepted two consignments passing by land through Retia this year. Both shipments were sourced from Pontus, and bore your sigil.’

Giordano pulled a disappointed face. ‘These must have been resold shipments. I do not convey by land through Retia. I have given my word to your Pater.’ He glanced at his daughter. ‘Bring more wine, Regina. The Brician.’

If that wasn’t a code-phrase, I’m losing my touch.
‘She will stay.’ Ramon raised a hand. ‘She has a sweet face,’ he lied. He looked at Kip.

he sent. The girl glanced at her father and back to Ramon, her jaw tensing.

Giordano narrowed his eyes. ‘Signor Sensini, I honour my agreements. A businessman must do this or all trust is lost, and without trust what do we have?’

‘What indeed?’ Ramon replied. ‘Pater Retiari feels that his honour has been impugned by this disregard for his territorial rights. He feels that the only way he may be reconciled is to take a share in your
enterprise.’ He showed Giordano his palm, tapped it. ‘Pater Retiari feels that delivery to him directly would allow greater volume and more profit for both you and him.’

Giordano grimaced. ‘There is no margin.’

Ramon laughed. ‘This is the
poppy
: there is plenty of margin.’ He eyeballed Giordano with all his impudence. Even Kip, who couldn’t understand the words, could feel the tension rise.

‘Pater, I will handle this,’ Regina said suddenly, turning on Ramon and reaching out, clenching her fist with an abrupt gesture. For an instant, Ramon felt a tightening in his chest, his throat constricting and his eyes blurring. Behind him he heard a sudden grunt, the rasp of steel on steel, and a body thudding to the ground.

Then his eyes cleared as he exerted his own powers to destroy the attack. With one hand he reached out towards the girl, and with the other towards Giordano. He stole the breath from their mouths with Air-gnosis. Giordano’s face went purple and the girl’s eyes went round as her father fell to his knees. Her shields wavered, Ramon hammered a bolt of light through them and she shrieked and collapsed. Giordano gave a choking cry, tried to crawl towards her, then fell onto his face.

Ramon released the gnosis and glanced behind him. Kip was standing over Giordano’s guard, who was flat on his back. His eyes were glassy. Kip was rubbing his knuckles and examining a rent in his shirt. Steel glinted beneath. ‘Little bastard tried to knife me,’ the Schlessen complained.

‘You didn’t kill him, I hope?’

‘Neyn,’ Kip grumped. ‘He can’t take a punch for shit.’ He peered outside. ‘All clear.’

Ramon grinned. ‘If he wakes up, hit him again.’ He bent over Giordano and revived him with a flow of Air-gnosis. ‘Get up,’ he told Giordano as he blinked to life.

Giordano went to curse, then saw the knife Ramon was holding to Regina’s throat. ‘Stregone?’ Giordano asked, stating the obvious.

‘Si,’ Ramon replied, ‘I am stregone, like your daughter. You are not the only one with a mage at your disposal. Pater Retiari has me.’ He
nudged the unconscious girl. ‘She is your flesh and blood, though. You must value her.’

‘Do not harm her, please.’

‘Of course not.’ Ramon broke the cord about Regina’s neck and dangled her periapt. ‘Listen, Giordano, I will make this offer only once. You will direct all of your poppy to Retia, and my Pater will give you a fair price – or else I will chain-rune your mage-daughter. You understand what I mean? She will be unable to use her gnosis, leaving you helpless against all the people you’ve pissed off.’ He raised his hand over the girl. ‘Choose.’

Giordano’s gaze flashed from him to his daughter. ‘If I go down, others will rise. I’m the only one who ships to Rimoni: all my rivals ship to Bricia.’

‘I know this,’ Ramon replied. ‘My Pater wants a partnership with a countryman. My visit here demonstrates that he is in earnest, and has the power to back up his plans.’