Steph Swainston - No Present Like Time

Another crash resounded, and the noise of shattering glass-the telescopes and sundials in the Starglass Quadrangle. The Emperor frowned and sent a guard to check on the damage. The Starglass Quadrangle was full of accurate instruments that set the time for the entire Fourlands. In fact, the Fourlands’ prime meridian runs through it; the north axis that crosses the east axis at zero degrees through the Emperor’s throne.

Another soldier sped in. I stepped aside while he flung himself on his knees in front of the throne and spieled out the latest news seen from his vantage point on the Skein Gate tower. “The Select Fyrds have engaged the rebel center. The cavalry are regrouping on the flanks.”

“Very well, return to your post.”

I thought of the picture of San in Tris Istorio. He was acting like a fyrd captain once more. I resumed speaking but was interrupted every fifteen minutes by news of the battle. There were longer waits between the trebuchet impacts now and the shouts were farther away. Tornado and Hayl are driving the rebels back, I thought with relief.

I spoke for so long that we had to break the court session to give me a meal. The four hundred kilometers I had just covered were taking their toll. By the time I finished it was early evening, and the bombardment had ceased some time ago. Nervous servants came in to light the torchères and wind lamps down on chains from the ceiling to fill them. I was exhausted from sleep deprivation and practically flayed by San’s questions.

I stared at the four gemstone columns in the niche behind the throne: blue azurite for Awia, purple porphyry for Morenzia, green jade for the Plainslands, silver-gray hematite for Darkling. For the first time I noticed that although there was equal distance between them, the four columns did not span the apse symmetrically. There was room for another pillar on the far right, just by where some small steps descended to an arched and iron-studded door that led to the Emperor’s private rooms. There was a gap where a column used to be-for the Pentadrica.

An Imperial Fyrd guardsman entered, bowing to give his final message without meeting the Emperor’s eyes. “Tornado reports that the rebels have been routed. Gio Ami didn’t dare face him in combat and his body is not among the fallen.”

“Very well. Tell Tornado and Hayl to bring their reports as soon as they are able.”

The guard left and San returned his gaze to me. “So you even left the Insect running loose?”

I picked at the unraveling seam of a fingerless glove. At this very minute the Insect was probably dining on the Capharnai. “Yes, my lord. We respected the Trisians’ wishes. It’ll be difficult enough to deal with them in future; we didn’t want to exacerbate the crisis still further. Vendace found it easy to reject Mist’s offer, because to the Senate immortality is just a nebulous concept. Half of them don’t believe in it.”

“I see. You failed to convince them. In fact you have given them one more reason to mistrust us. The situation must be healed, and quickly. Comet, you have worked hard so far. Can you do better?”

I bowed. During my meal in the empty guardroom San had written a missive that now lay on the marble arm of his throne, neatly sealed with the crimson sunburst. He regarded me carefully, as if he could read all my private thoughts from my face. He resumed: “Gio’s followers hold up our stagecoaches at every point between here and Cobalt. Gio himself is not easily found, except when he wants to be, it seems. This letter”-he picked up the small envelope-“must be delivered to Mist urgently. Do you have someone you can trust to do it?”

That was a poor precedent: a mortal asked to do my work. I said, “Messages are only truly secure if delivered by my hand.”

San’s pale thin lips turned up slightly. “I don’t doubt it, Comet. But I have other work for you. Following his defeat, Gio Ami will attempt to regroup. I know that he will be holding a meeting in two days’ time in Eske, in a salle d’armes hall that is a branch of his school.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve been there often.”

“I want you to go and listen to what he has to say, and then come back and inform me.”

“Your wish.” Obviously I wouldn’t be able to walk straight in, but I would relish finding a way to spy on Gio. He had once given me fencing lessons and I knew he was an excellent teacher; when in front of an audience he was a born performer. I said, “I’ll send the letter with a fast, dependable rider who should be able to slip past Gio. Mist should receive it late on Wednesday night.”

“Very well. In the meantime, if Tornado needs your assistance as a lookout or envoy do as he asks.”

Help the man who was fucking my beautiful wife? But San gave me no time for introspection: “Comet, what do you think of Tris?”

Danio was immediately brought to mind; I shied away from the memory of her drumming feet, and recollected the Amarot library. “The islanders love debate and casuistry that’s misguided compared to our practicality. It’s great that Tris now knows of the Fourlands. If we can make allies with them, if they become willing to communicate with us, their theories added to the Empire’s will increase our inventiveness a hundredfold.”

“What is your opinion of the riches of Tris?”

“My lord, I think they’re very dangerous. They’ll cause avarice, not to mention inflation.”

“And the people?”

I sighed. “On Tris, everything works, but that’s because it’s a tiny island. I think they have sorted out their problems-a very long time ago, perhaps-and they’ve not changed since. On Tris, a thief can become a honest governor…” In our case, it’s usually the other way around. “But I find it strange that the citizens of Capharnaum don’t want to cooperate with the Empire, like Rhydanne, and they hide themselves away when they clearly do care about the world and want to improve it, like Awians…It’ll probably do Tris good to learn of the real world. Maybe they’re in shock. I hope that when they understand us the whole Empire will benefit.”

San watched me carefully, sitting straight in the throne without stirring. He was satisfied that I was telling the truth. “Make sure that letter is sent to Mist swiftly and with the highest security,” he said.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Go now and rest, but return on Friday and tell me exactly what Gio says in Eske.”

San gave me the Top Secret sealed letter. I made obeisance, taking a few steps back before turning and passing the screen. As I left the Throne Room I called, “Immortals and fyrd, bring any letters for Eske to my room before midnight. Any questions about Tris, keep them.”

Walking down the corridor I caught sight of a flicker of movement on the opposite wall and went back to investigate. It was my reflection, pickled in a tall mirror speckled with tarnish. An expression of horror crossed its face-even in the half-light I don’t look as good as I did this time last year. Still the same age of course, but my eyes were ringed with deep shadow; my cut-off T-shirt was the gray texture of clothes washed hundreds of times.

I called at the stables and watched my courier race away with San’s letter. Enormous plane trees grew in the wrecked paddock outside. I walked past the one that I had sheltered underneath, two hundred years ago. Suddenly I saw a vivid image of my tattered self back then, leaning against the tree trunk. If I had known that any Challenger was welcome to walk into the Castle at any time, I would not have spent three days sitting under this very tree, wondering how to present myself. On our way from Hacilith, highwaymen had murdered my girlfriend and stolen the money I’d gained by blackmailing the city’s governor. I owned nothing but my crossbow and a switchblade.