Peter Higgins - Truth and Fear

Chazia ignored him.

‘There was an attack on his house last night,’ she said. ‘The Lezarye were responsible, there is no doubt of that. Dukhonin and all his household were hacked to death in their beds and the house ransacked.’

‘Last night?’ said Fohn. ‘Last night! We should have been informed immediately. A member of the Colloquium assassinated, and the Chair man not even told? Who was in charge of Dukhonin’s security? I want names. I want them punished. Heads on spikes. And an overhaul. A thorough review. Action this day and a report on my desk this afternoon.’

‘Absolutely!’ said Khazar. ‘If Steopan Dukhonin can’t sleep safe in his bed then who is safe? It might have been any of us! Internal dissidence is your responsibility, Lavrentina. I cannot understand—’

Chazia held up her hand for silence.

‘As you rightly say, gentlemen, this is my area. I will be making a speech in the parade ground as soon as this meeting is over. I will be announcing new measures. We have tolerated the presence of the Lezarye in this city for too long. We cannot afford an enemy within. An enemy at our backs. The raion will be closed and cleared. The Lezarye will be transported to the east. Conscripted labour is needed there.’

‘No,’ said Fohn. ‘This is too hasty. There will be trouble. They will resist.’

‘I will deal with that,’ said Chazia. ‘Leave it to me.’

‘No. We should have been consulted. I am—’

‘We need to move on, gentlemen,’ said Chazia. ‘This is a War Cabinet and we have more urgent business. Time is short. When I was at Steopan Vadimovich’s house last night, clearing up the mess, I learned a disturbing thing. The situation is worse than we thought.’ She paused and looked each man in the face, one by one. ‘We have all been kept in the dark.’

Khazar turned to Fohn.

‘What’s going on, Etsim?’ he said. ‘What is she talking about?’

Fohn said nothing. He was watching Chazia narrowly. He was a bureaucrat, but not entirely stupid. She would have to deal with him soon.

‘The war situation is much more desperate than we have been led to believe,’ she said. ‘Dukhonin’s desk was piled high with reports. Complaints. Telegrams. A catalogue of inadequacy and failure. The army has no munitions. The navy has no fuel. The armament manufacturers have no materials. We are hopelessly in debt to the finance houses of the Fransa, and the Treasury is within a week of bankruptcy. The front at Brazhd is crumbling. An Archipelago fleet has been sighted off the Aanen Islands.’

‘The Aanens—!’ Khazar began.

‘The enemy,’ said Chazia, ‘will be at the outskirts of Mirgorod within days.’

Khazar slumped forward, his head in his hands.

‘Then we are ruined and it is over,’ he muttered. ‘I knew! I always knew!’

Fohn ignored him. He was glaring at Chazia.

‘Lies,’ he said. ‘These are lies. The Novozhd would never have—’

‘The Novozhd knew,’ said Chazia. ‘Of course he knew. Why else did he start negotiations for peace? Dukhonin knew. The admirals and the generals knew. Every foot soldier in the infantry knew. Only we did not know. We have been playing a charade of government since the Novozhd was killed, but now we know. And now we must act.’

‘What?’ said Khazar. ‘What can we do?’

‘The current military command cannot be trusted and must be purged. The necessary action is already in hand.’

‘This is happening now ?’ said Fohn.

‘It began,’ said Chazia, ‘as soon as you entered this room.’

‘On whose orders ?’

‘On mine. Your personal staffs are also being replaced. You have been misled and betrayed. I will give you more trustworthy people. I will arrange it myself. But our first priority is the defence of Mirgorod. The city must not be allowed to fall to the Archipelago. Dukhonin has made no adequate preparations. None at all. However, I have taken matters in hand now. I have appointed General Rizhin as the new City Defence Commissar. He will begin work immediately—’

‘ Rizhin? ’ said Khazar. ‘Who is this Rizhin ? Fohn? I don’t know the name. Do we know this man Rizhin?’

Fohn was on his feet, red-faced and trembling. His chair tipped backwards and crashed to the floor behind him.

‘This is a coup !’ he shouted. ‘A filthy fucking putsch ! I’m not going to—’

Chazia pressed the intercom buzzer. The door opened and Captain Iliodor entered the room, followed by three armed militia officers. They took up positions inside the door.

‘Arrest this woman,’ said Fohn. ‘Arrest her now.’

The militia officers ignored him.

‘Sit down, Chairman,’ said Chazia. ‘Please, Etsim Maximich, my friend. Sit.’

‘So this is how it is,’ said Fohn. ‘You’re mad. You can’t sustain it. You have no strength. The people will not allow it. The army will stand behind me. I’ll have you dragged through the streets.’

‘Calm yourself, Etsim. Please. Of course this is not a coup. You are overwrought. This is shocking news, I know. I understand your feelings. I felt the same way myself last night. You will recover soon, and see things clearly again. You are my colleague, Etsim, my valued friend and my Chairman. We continue as before. Of course we do. I have made a plan. You and Secretary Khazar will leave Mirgorod immediately. It is too dangerous for you to remain here. The enemy is at the gate. You will go east, to Kholvatogorsk, and establish our new capital there. The Vlast continues. A new Vlast. A Vlast reborn. It will not matter then whether Mirgorod falls or not. The Vlast is more than one single city. Go to Kholvatogorsk and build anew. Prepare to strike back at our enemies. I will join you there shortly. I have somewhere else I must go first.’

Lom and Maroussia stepped out of Count Palffy’s house into snow-bright cold.

‘Eligiya Kamilova lives in a wooden house on the fish wharf,’ Elena had said. ‘You need to climb the Ship Bastion and take the covered steps down to the harbour.’

The Ship Bastion was a massive granite outcrop, the highest point in the raion, the highest in Mirgorod. Street sweepers were out–giants shovelling snow with easy strength–and some people were clearing the paths outside their houses and shops, but it was hard climbing. They had to pick their way across rutted, compacted stretches of ice and wade knee-deep through heaps and drifts of snow.

There was a small cobbled square at the top of the Bastion rock, with a parapet where you could lean and catch your breath. Below them, the canyons and ravines of the raion fell way in a tumble of steep roofs, stepped gables, leaning pinnacles and slumping chimneys; and beyond lay the expansive, grey, snow-dusted, smoking vista of Mirgorod. The city roared quietly under the wheeling of the gulls. In the distance the thousand-foot-high needle-sharp spire of the Armoury, the One Column On Spilled Blood, speared the belly of the sky. The Lodka was a massive squat black prow, and the steel ribbon of the Mir rolled westwards, crossed by a dozen bridges, towards the skyline smudge of the sea.

In the far corner of the Bastion Square was a wooden door set in a pointed arch of weathered grey stone.

‘That must be the way,’ said Maroussia. ‘Down there.’

The door in the arch opened onto a steep winding flight of stone steps enclosed by wooden walls and a wooden roof. The stairway was in shadow, lit only by narrow slits cut at intervals in the wood, and the treads were worn smooth and hollow in the centre by centuries of footfall. It smelled cool and damp, like the mouth of a well. The steps wound and switchbacked steeply down. Hundreds of steps. Several times they had to stop and press themselves back against the wall to make room for someone coming up.