Ian Esslemont - Return of the Crimson Guard

This left him and the priest-mage, Heuk. The impromptu honour guard forming up surrounding the wagon had set out north. Ho invited Heuk to join the wake. ‘I'm curious to have a look at this Mallick creature the Cawn officers are so puffed up about.’

Heuk walked with him. He gestured to the wagon. ‘I still can't believe it.’ He wiped a dirty sleeve across his equally dirty face, winced at the glaring sun.

‘Neither can I. It seems impossible.’

Ho saw his feelings echoed in the stunned, numb faces of the regular soldiers all assembling without fanfare, without orders, all gathering together to follow the wagon as it made its slow way north to the trader road. Only now, it seemed to Ho, were they becoming aware of what they had had in their Empress. Unflinching. A presence so solid they need not even have considered it. For all her faults it may be that it was she who held them all together. Now, with her gone, the break with the past was complete. Who was left to take the throne? Who could possibly fill that cold, hard, perilous seat — or would possibly dare? No one that he could think of. But then, he'd been away for a very long time, and even a day can be a lifetime in Imperial politics.

Heuk had been eyeing him edgewise, an unwelcome calculating look in his eyes. ‘The Empire has a need of a High Mage…’

‘I'd rather have my skin flayed from my body. What about you?’

‘Me? I'm just a squad mage.’

Certainly. A squad mage who terrifies all other mages. But he let it lie — they each had their secrets and preferred anonymity.

The cortege eventually reached the encampment of the Cawn command near the crossroads. Here it stopped and the Cawnese provincial nobles gathered to pay their respects. Also present were many assembled Imperial officers. Beneath his breath Heuk pointed out each to Ho: ‘The tall pale one is High Fist Anand. Next to him is Fist D'Ebbin. Don't know the names of the Kanese and Cawn officers and mages here.’ A palanquin pushed its way among the gathered officers, a bald, armoured, giant Dal Hon at its head. Ho exchanged knowing glances with Heuk. Bala. Quick to sidle up, she was.

Searching among everyone Ho saw no one dominating figure. Rather, it was the way they all stood in an uneasy semicircle slightly apart from one particular figure that directed his gaze to the man: the seemingly harmless short, rotund, figure who must be this Mallick Rel. The man's pale moon face held an expression of deep remorse and sadness, but beneath this Ho read rigidly contained triumph.

‘A poignant day for the Empire’, Mallick said softly to High Fist Anand next to him. Though in pain from his wounds, Anand looked down at the man with obvious disgust. ‘A day to be remembered.’ He clasped his hands across his stomach. ‘Yes. And for more than this one compelling reason. For while we mourn the loss of our Empress we must also rejoice in the surmounting of this misguided secessionist movement. And for the crushing of our old enemies, the mercenary Crimson Guard.’ The man glanced to the ground as if in humility. ‘Such is Laseen's legacy of peace and security to us.’

Gods, he really slathers it on. Ho looked to Heuk, who rolled his eyes to the sky. Yet what can one do hut stand in awe of such breathtaking, hare-faced audaciousness?

‘Mallick!’ a great deep voice bellowed. Heads turned. Puffing, battered and limping, Korbolo Dom, Sword of the Empire, pushed his way forward supported by two of his officers. ‘What is this, Mallick?’ The Sword glared about the assembly. ‘What is this delay? Why are we not marshalling for attack? Now is the time!’ Panting, he glanced about from face to face. ‘We have them surrounded. Outnumbered. We must strike! Behead every last one of them! I will take overall command-’

‘Sword,’ Mallick interrupted softly, ‘we rejoice that you are still with us, but we are pained by reports that have come to us from the engagement with the Talian League.’

Korbolo stared, mouth gaping his utter consternation. ‘What?’

‘It has been reported from many sources that when your phalanx broke you withdrew to the rear. Do you deny these reports?’

‘To take command of another unit to lead it into battle — yes. Mallick, what is this foolishness? We are losing time-’

But the Falaran native was shaking his head, his thick lips down-turned as if forced into an unwilling duty. ‘I am sorry, Korbolo, but the Sword — once committed to the field — does not retreat. To do so is to announce capitulation to the entire Imperial force.’ Mallick raised his gaze to study the assembled officers. ‘And I take it as a powerful testimony to the resilience and temper of these forces that they did not break then and there.

‘Therefore, as Imperial Councillor, Spokesman of the Assembly, it is my regretful duty to order you imprisoned until a court of inquiry into these events may be convened.’

‘What!’ The Sword stared, his mouth working, then suddenly he lunged at Mallick. The officers who had formerly been supporting him now restrained him. ‘You… creature! You cannot do this to me! I am the Sword! Victorious! I won this battle!’ The man struggled, arms wrenching. He glared with bulging eyes at the assembled officers, his Napan face darkening, foam at his lips. ‘I am your commander! I led you to victory!’

‘The prisoner will be silenced,’ Mallick ordered.

A rag was jammed into Korbolo's mouth. He was led away kicking, fighting, gurgling and screaming behind the rag.

Mallick shook his head in sad regret.

‘Your wisdom and forbearance are an inspiration to us all, Councillor,’ an old woman called out.

Mallick's gaze sharpened, searched the crowd, settled on one face and narrowed to glittering slits. ‘Let that one come forth,’ he called.

The Wickan twins advanced, supporting Su between them. Ho tensed to advance but Heuk held him back.

‘So, you Wickans. Before me once again. Yet I hear accounts from all sides that your charge smashed the Guard and opened the way to Imperial victory. For that we are all in your debt. And we thank you…’

Su bowed shallowly. ‘We ask only for what is by rights ours.’

‘Ah, yes… of course.’ Mallick reclasped his hands across his stomach. ‘This most recent distressing policy regarding your lands. Ill-conceived and inhumane. I was always against it, of course.’

Now the twins lurched forward, faces twisting, but Su's clawed hands clutching at their shoulders held them back. ‘Perhaps these new Imperial holdings could be granted twenty-year leases from us,’ Su suggested, ‘thereby avoiding further violence and upheaval.’

Mallick's lips pursed. His fingertips tapped one another across his stomach. ‘Details to be negotiated in treaty, of course.’

Su inclined her head. ‘Of course.’

Mallick waved negligently. ‘Very well. We are done. You may withdraw.’

‘Your honesty and compassion are a lesson to us all,’ Su crooned, bowing. Ho sent the old witch a wink as the twins helped her away.

‘M'Lord Councillor,’ Bala called from her palanquin.

‘Yes, High Mage?’

High Mage. Ho shot Heuk a sharp glance — the old mage looked skyward once more.

‘Multiple Warrens have been accessed on the hilltop.’

Nodding thoughtfully, Mallick faced the assembled officers. ‘Send word to the Guard that it is our belief that enough of our good honest soldiers have died today. Enough blood has been shed in this useless vendetta. Speaking — unofficially — for the Empire, our leave is given them to withdraw.’

‘Convenient, that,’ Heuk muttered aside, ‘since they're already withdrawing.’

Ho bent down to answer, ‘It'll look good in the histories.’