consulted a parchment he'd been reading. 'And I see from the report that you lost a personal possession to the outlaws.'
'The item in question is not your concern, General, and in any event it was unimportant, trifling.'
'I'm pleased to hear it, ma'am.'
'The matter of my personal security, however, is not insignificant. In allowing my convoy to be attacked, those under your command were both incompetent and cowardly.'
'A number of men gave their lives for you, ma'am.'
'But not all, I think.'
'Ma'am?'
'Who survived the raid?'
Hacher scanned the report. 'A coach driver, and one of the troopers accompanying you, though he's severely injured.'
'Execute them.'
'With all due respect, ma'am, I think — '
'Only you don't, do you? Think, that is. The only way you're going to put down this growing rebellion is by being utterly ruthless with your underlings. They need to be toughened to pass that mercilessness on to the scum on the streets.'
'I have complete confidence in our armed forces,' Hacher protested indignantly. 'Their expertise and bravery are next to none.'
'The rulers of every nation tell their subjects lies. Do you know one of the biggest? That they have the best army in the world. While in actuality armies are a rabble, a dumping pit for felons and cutthroats. Only absolute obedience, born of the rope and the lash, enables them to function.'
'Our forces are properly disciplined, ma'am. And as a result, as fighters they're peerless.'
'You don't know the meaning of the word. Nor will you until I fashion a force that's truly peerless. Merciless and totally compliant. The executions will go ahead. As to your own behaviour, as the one ultimately answerable, I've issued you with enough warnings about your behaviour. Be sure that this is the last one.'
'Ma'am.' For all his iron reputation, and his position of command, he lowered his eyes from hers.
'Cheer up, General,' Jennesta told him. 'Your forces will have the chance to prove you right very soon.' She looked out at the rising Sun, bloody red on the horizon. 'Something tells me it's going to be an interesting day.'
On the periphery of the city, in a location passed on by word of mouth in marketplaces, taverns and cornfields, a crowd was gathering. The area was shabby, with little to tempt visitors, and dawn had barely broken, yet a large number had collected. More were arriving by the minute, on foot, by horseback, in packed-out wagons.
Up above, the comet was plain, even when rivalled by the climbing Sun.
The quarter was one of mean dwellings, stables and depositories, largely derelict. The focus of the crowd was a particular warehouse, some three storeys tall, that once had served as a grain store. There was a gallery, or veranda, projecting from its second floor, onto which sacks were hoisted. It was a perfect point to address the crowd from.
Inside the building the atmosphere was tense. Many rebels were assembled, along with all the Wolverines. The humans, Pepperdyne and Standeven, were not present, and neither were Jup and Spurral. It was thought best to keep them out of sight of the crowd.
Principal Sylandya, Acurial's aged matriarch, was the centre of attention. She sat as though enthroned on a hastily found, down-at-heel chair, and she wore the scarlet robe that signified the office she had never renounced. A small army of rebels buzzed about her. But her offspring, the twins Brelan and Chillder, stayed closest. A privilege that had been temporarily extended to Stryke and Coilla, though Stryke at least suspected this was because Sylandya found the Wolverines intriguing, and perhaps a bit exotic.
'Do you have your speech prepared, Mother?' Chillder asked.
'No. This is not a time for lectures. I'll speak from the heart, and the words I need will come.'
Brelan smiled. 'A typically wise decision.'
'You always knew how to flatter your old mother,' Sylandya told him. 'But no soft soap today, I beg you. I need an honest steer from both of you on what we're doing here.'
'You have doubts?' Chillder said, frowning.
' Of course I have doubts. I hope I've raised you well enough to know I would. What I'm about to say to that crowd is going to have a price. A price paid in blood. Citizens are going to suffer.'
'They're suffering already, and the way things are it'll never stop. Surely it's better to pay that price to rid ourselves of the occupiers?'
'That's what my head says. My feelings aren't so clear-cut.' She turned to Stryke. 'What do our friends from… the North think?'
Stryke didn't miss her slight hesitation, and not for the first time suspected she was more sceptical about his band's story than her children were. 'The orcs here have a choice. They can be cattle fit for slaughter or snow leopards lusting for prey. If they're going to throw off the yoke they need to remember what they are. Your call to arms and that thing in the sky could do it.'
'Snow leopards? That's a class of beast I'm not familiar with in what I know of Acurial. They must be confined to your northern wastes.' She eyed the necklace of leopards' fangs he wore as a trophy about his neck, and gave him a look half quizzical, half amused.
Stryke cursed himself for mentioning something unknown in this world. He said nothing.
'But of course you're right,' she went on. 'Most of this land's orcs have lived too long in a dream. My hope is that we can wake them. Whether Grilan-Zeat and my poor words can bring that about is moot.' She smiled. 'Oh, and the prophecy concerning a band of heroes. Let's not forget that.'
'How much stock do you put in it?' Coilla asked.
'Prophecies and comets? It could all be so much moonfluff. Though I wouldn't tell your Sergeant Haskeer that; he seems rather taken with the romance of it.'
'A big old softy, that's our Haskeer,' Coilla told her with a straight face.
'I've no idea if the legends and omens have any real meaning,' Sylandya repeated, 'and frankly I don't care. I'll use whatever it takes to gain our freedom. Needs must.'
'You've no qualms about telling the citizens a lie?'
'I didn't say it was a lie. But even if it is, sometimes a lie in the service of truth is tolerable.'
'Makes sense to me,' Stryke remarked.
Brelan came forward. 'It's time, Mother. Are you ready?'
'Ready as I'll ever be.' She clutched his hand, and reached for his sister's. 'We're about to enter an abyss, in hope of finding the light beyond. You two have to promise me that whatever happens you'll keep faith with our cause.'
'You'll be here to make sure we do,' Chillder replied.
'The fate of the nation doesn't depend on one individual. Things change. Promise.'
'I promise.'
'Me, too,' Brelan echoed. 'But I think you're being — '
Sylandya placed her fingers on his lips, stilling him. 'You said it was time.'
The twins nodded. She rose and they moved to either side of her, taking her arms.
A little procession formed, led by the principal and the siblings. Several members of the resistance council followed, with Stryke and Coilla falling in at the rear. They made their way up a staircase to the floor above, and from there out onto the balcony-like veranda. A number of rebels were already there, as were a handful of Wolverines, including Haskeer.
From their vantage point they could make out the size of the crowd, which had further swollen. More orcs were arriving. When they recognised Sylandya, their roar was like thunder.
'How's she going to make herself heard over this din?' Coilla bellowed into Stryke's ear.
He shrugged.
When Brelan raised his arms, the crowd immediately fell silent. They boomed again when he announced the principal, then resumed an expectant hush.
