Stephen Baxter - Bronze Summer

And, from the causeway, she saw that the community’s houses had been burned and smashed to the ground. Even the drying racks for fish and eel lay broken. There was nobody in sight.

The Northlanders stood on the edge of the hearthspace, shocked. But Qirum strode boldly forward. He used the tip of his sword to lift fallen thatch, splintered timbers. He exposed a small storage chamber dug into the floor of one house; even that had been broken open, the shellfish and snails stolen.

And he found a severed human head, a child’s, apparently staring up at the sky, the skin of the face burned and blackened and shrunken.

They would not go on, or return to the Wall that night.

During what remained of the day, Raka showed quick and decisive leadership. She organised the men to construct lean-tos from the debris. The women and older children were set to gathering food from the marshland and the forest. The younger children were distracted by play.

Meanwhile the Annids and priests poked around the charred ruins of the settlement. The priests carefully gathered what human remains they could find; back at the Wall, they would be interred with the bones of their ancestors. Kilushepa and Qirum walked together, inspecting the grisly remains, talking quietly now in their own tongue, their enmity forgotten in the face of a worse disaster. Milaqa worked with the men, throwing herself into the heavy work, until she was hot and coated with ash. Confronted by such horror, she felt ashamed of her own earlier self-obsession.

The women returned with eel and shellfish. A fire was quickly built, and stones laid over it to heat; the gutted eel and shelled oysters would be fried on the hot rocks. In the lean-tos, some of the younger children were already being laid down for sleep.

While the meal was being prepared, and as the day’s light began to fade, Raka gathered her advisers around her. They sat in a circle by the warmth of the fire and pulled their cloaks around them, like lumps of rock in the firelight. Milaqa sat near Kilushepa and Qirum so she could translate for them. After months in Northland the queen was deigning to learn a few words of her hosts’ and prospective allies’ language, but her grasp was weak.

Raka said now, ‘We will speak low enough that the children are not alarmed.’ There was a rumble of agreement. ‘I wanted us to come into the country to see for ourselves how the long winter is affecting our people. I did not expect so stark a lesson as this. These people were robbed for their food — as simple as that. Evidently the disaster was so complete there was nobody left to bring the news to the Wall.’

‘The raiders could have come from Gaira, or from Albia,’ said Voro.

‘Or,’ said Noli, the stern elder Annid who had so vigorously opposed Raka’s appointment, ‘they could have been us. Northlanders, turning on their own.’

‘Our kind would not do this!’ snapped back a burly Vole.

‘Our kind are human too,’ Teel said. ‘Our kind are starving too.’

‘No,’ Qirum said clearly. All eyes turned to him. He pushed back his cloak, so his breastplate shone in the firelight. He murmured to Milaqa, ‘Translate for me. I was the first to inspect the ruined settlement. You saw me. The raiders were starving farmers. How do I know? Because of the way they tore these buildings apart. You saw the broken-open storage pits I found. In my country every city has a granary, a grain store, to feed the people in times of famine.’ He snorted contempt. ‘These petty raiders thought this was a farm, or a city. That there must be a grain store somewhere. That is why they dug into the very floors. They didn’t know how you live. Hungry farmers did this — not you Northlanders.’

Raka nodded. ‘All right. But for them to have come so deep into our country, to act so savagely, they must have been hungry indeed.’

Teel said, ‘They will come again, or their kind. After such a winter, famine must rage across the Continent.’

Kilushepa spoke now, through Milaqa’s translation. ‘My country has suffered famine for years, because of drought. Already, I believe, Hattusa — my capital — would have fallen, the empire itself crumbled, if not for your assistance, your potatoes and maize. I have spoken of this before. And now we have the burden of the fire mountain’s clouds. If the empire of the Hatti were to fall now — if the other great states of the east were to collapse, Egypt and Assyria-’

‘The Continent would swarm with raiders,’ Teel said. ‘So would the sea. Desperate, starving farmers, with their hungry children. And some will come dressed like this.’ He reached over and rapped his knuckles on Qirum’s breastplate; the Trojan grinned. ‘Not just hungry farmers,’ Teel said. ‘Hungry warriors.’

Raka nodded. ‘So what are we to do?’

Before any of the Northlanders could reply, Kilushepa took her chance. She stood, and pulled Milaqa to her feet. ‘Speak my words well for me, child,’ she murmured in Hatti. ‘I will tell you what you must do, Annid. You must help me return to Hattusa.’ She glanced around at the few Jackdaws in the company. ‘Those of you who trade with us know my reputation. I was ousted by fools. Only I held that country together — only I can save it now. If you help me, I pledge that a saved and stabilised Hatti state will help contain the collapse of the countries around us. We Hatti will protect you Northlanders, and the legacy of your ancient civilisation. It is as simple as that.’

Milaqa was appalled by the way she used this massacre as an opportunity, and by the woman’s hypocrisy. She remembered Kilushepa’s contempt for Northland during the midwinter walk on the Wall. There had been no talk of the ‘legacy of your ancient civilisation’ then. But this, she supposed, was diplomacy, the business of the world, which left little room for truth.

Raka paused before she spoke again, evidently thinking through her response. ‘And in return for this service, what reward would you want, Tawananna?’

‘Only one thing,’ Kilushepa said smoothly. ‘I want the secret of the foods you give us. Potatoes. Maize. No more of your mash. Give us seeds. Let us grow these crops ourselves; let us feed ourselves, rather than rely on your hand-outs.’

There were shouts of outrage.

Noli protested, ‘This was Bren’s plan! This was what he had Kuma murdered for! Must we even discuss this grotesque entanglement?’

Raka, sitting quietly, held up her hand until there was calm. ‘Tawananna, you will understand that we will have to consult. Such a grave step cannot be taken lightly.’

Kilushepa nodded gracefully, sat, and the group broke up into knots of discussion.

Teel tugged Milaqa’s elbow. ‘That’s nice work by Raka. I mean, Kilushepa has taken her chance, but the Annid really isn’t giving away much. The secret of our magic foods would be lost eventually anyhow through some spy or other, or another crooked trader like Bren — we’ve been lucky to keep it so long. Of course the Annids will take some convincing. But I think we can do a better deal than for some vague promise of friendship from Hattusa.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Watch and learn, young Crow. Do you have the arrowhead?’

She slipped the thong over her head and handed the piece to him. ‘What do you want with it this time?’

‘To change the world. Translate for Kilushepa.’ He stood easily, and spoke over the gathering conversations. ‘Annid of Annids — forgive me. I have another concern to raise.’ He held up the arrowhead, dangling from its thong. Everybody present knew its significance. ‘ This killed Kuma. Even though she was wearing this.’ Again he bent and rapped his knuckles on Qirum’s breastplate. This time the Trojan laughed out loud. Teel turned to Kilushepa. ‘And the only place in the world where such iron is made, madam, iron hard enough to use as a decent weapon, is Hattusa.’