eyebrow. “I have my ways. How else do you think I stay abreast of Abeleyn’s adventures?”
The fire cracked and spat. A gun began to boom out the evening salute somewhere on the battlements beyond. They would be lighting the ship beacons along the harbours of the city. The men of the ships would be changing watch, half of them trooping into the messes for the evening meal.
Faint and far-off amid the nearer noises, Golophin thought he could hear the cathedral bells tolling Vespers up on Abrusio Hill, nearly two miles away. He knew that if he stepped outside and looked that way he would be able to make out the dying glow of the pyres, finally fading. The dwindling reminder of another day’s genocide. He stifled the bitter fury which always arose when he thought of it.
“We must play for time,” Mercado said at last. “Rovero and I must not see this bull of theirs. We must hold them off as long as we are able, and get Abeleyn into the city safely. Once he is back in Abrusio, the task is simpler.”
Golophin rose and gripped the general’s hand. “Thank you, Albio. You have done the right thing. With you and Rovero behind him, Abeleyn can retake Abrusio with ease.”
Mercado did not seem to share Golophin’s happiness.
“There is something else,” he said. He sounded troubled, almost embarrassed.
“What?”
“I cannot be sure of all my men.”
Golophin was shocked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that my adjutant, Colonel Jochen Freiss, has been conducting secret negotiations with a member of the council, Sastro di Carrera. I believe he has suborned a significant number of the garrison.”
“Can you not relieve him of his post?” Golophin demanded.
“That would be tipping our hand too soon. I have yet to plumb the depths of his support, but I believe some of the junior officers may have joined him in conspiracy.”
“It will mean war,” Admiral Rovero said ominously. His voice sounded like the rumble of surf on a far-off strand.
“How can you sound out the loyalty of your men?” Golophin asked sharply.
“I have my ways and means, even as you have, Mage,” Mercado retorted. “But I need time. For now we will continue to hold the Lower City. Some of the lesser guilds are on our side, though the Merchants’ Guild is waiting to see which way the wind blows before committing itself.”
“Merchants,” Rovero said with all the contempt of the nobility for those in trade.
“We need the merchants on our side,” Golophin told them. “The council is sitting on the treasury. If we are to finance a war then the merchants are our best source of money. Abeleyn will grant them any concessions they wish, within reason, in return for a regular flow of gold.”
“No doubt the council will be putting the same proposition to them,” Mercado said.
“Then we must be sure it is our proposition they accept!” Golophin snapped. He stared into the ashen bowl of his pipe. “My apologies, gentlemen. I am a little tired.”
“No matter,” Rovero assured him. “My ships may tip the scales. If the worst comes to the worst I can threaten them with a naval blockade of the city. That’ll soon loosen their purse-strings.”
Golophin nodded. He tucked his pipe back into a pocket which was scorched from similar use. “I must be going. I have some people to see.”
“Tell the King, when next you speak to him, that we are his men—that we always have been, Golophin,” Mercado said haltingly.
“I will, though he has always known it,” the wizard replied with a smile.
SIX
T HE chamber was small and circular. Its roof was domed and in the dome was a bewildering array of small beams, too slender to provide any architectural support. Corfe could not guess at their purpose, unless it were mere ornamentation. They were hung with cobwebs.
Large windows covered half the circumference of the walls, some of stained glass, predominantly Torunnan scarlet which lent a rosy hue to the place despite the
The fire cracked and spat. A gun began to boom out the evening salute somewhere on the battlements beyond. They would be lighting the ship beacons along the harbours of the city. The men of the ships would be changing watch, half of them trooping into the messes for the evening meal.
Faint and far-off amid the nearer noises, Golophin thought he could hear the cathedral bells tolling Vespers up on Abrusio Hill, nearly two miles away. He knew that if he stepped outside and looked that way he would be able to make out the dying glow of the pyres, finally fading. The dwindling reminder of another day’s genocide. He stifled the bitter fury which always arose when he thought of it.
“We must play for time,” Mercado said at last. “Rovero and I must not see this bull of theirs. We must hold them off as long as we are able, and get Abeleyn into the city safely. Once he is back in Abrusio, the task is simpler.”
Golophin rose and gripped the general’s hand. “Thank you, Albio. You have done the right thing. With you and Rovero behind him, Abeleyn can retake Abrusio with ease.”
Mercado did not seem to share Golophin’s happiness.
“There is something else,” he said. He sounded troubled, almost embarrassed.
“What?”
“I cannot be sure of all my men.”
Golophin was shocked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that my adjutant, Colonel Jochen Freiss, has been conducting secret negotiations with a member of the council, Sastro di Carrera. I believe he has suborned a significant number of the garrison.”
“Can you not relieve him of his post?” Golophin demanded.
“That would be tipping our hand too soon. I have yet to plumb the depths of his support, but I believe some of the junior officers may have joined him in conspiracy.”
“It will mean war,” Admiral Rovero said ominously. His voice sounded like the rumble of surf on a far-off strand.
“How can you sound out the loyalty of your men?” Golophin asked sharply.
“I have my ways and means, even as you have, Mage,” Mercado retorted. “But I need time. For now we will continue to hold the Lower City. Some of the lesser guilds are on our side, though the Merchants’ Guild is waiting to see which way the wind blows before committing itself.”
“Merchants,” Rovero said with all the contempt of the nobility for those in trade.
“We need the merchants on our side,” Golophin told them. “The council is sitting on the treasury. If we are to finance a war then the merchants are our best source of money. Abeleyn will grant them any concessions they wish, within reason, in return for a regular flow of gold.”
“No doubt the council will be putting the same proposition to them,” Mercado said.
“Then we must be sure it is our proposition they accept!” Golophin snapped. He stared into the ashen bowl of his pipe. “My apologies, gentlemen. I am a little tired.”
“No matter,” Rovero assured him. “My ships may tip the scales. If the worst comes to the worst I can threaten them with a naval blockade of the city. That’ll soon loosen their purse-strings.”
Golophin nodded. He tucked his pipe back into a pocket which was scorched from similar use. “I must be going. I have some people to see.”
“Tell the King, when next you speak to him, that we are his men—that we always have been, Golophin,” Mercado said haltingly.
“I will, though he has always known it,” the wizard replied with a smile.
SIX
T HE chamber was small and circular. Its roof was domed and in the dome was a bewildering array of small beams, too slender to provide any architectural support. Corfe could not guess at their purpose, unless it were mere ornamentation. They were hung with cobwebs.
Large windows covered half the circumference of the walls, some of stained glass, predominantly Torunnan scarlet which lent a rosy hue to the place despite the
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