CHAPTER FOURTEEN
An Ambush
The meeting of general staff had ended barely a half-hour ago – for Creed was counting the minutes on his precious waterclock as he sipped on his lukewarm cup of milk – when the doors crashed open for the second time that morning, and in stamped the Michine in all their righteous anger, their gold and diamond links jingling over the rustle of their silk clothing.
Chonas and Sinese were at the front of the crowd, their painted faces pale contrasts to the fervour in their eyes. At the sight of General Creed sitting behind his desk with a cup of milk in his hand, Sinese lost all semblance of self-control.
‘You can’t do this!’ the Minister of Defence hollered over the desk, and shook his cane as though he wished to hit him with it.
Creed settled his cup upon the desk and waved the guards at the door away. ‘I can, and I have,’ he told Sinese in a level voice, and returned the man’s incensed stare without blinking.
Chonas, the First Minister, stepped up from behind and tapped Sinese on the arm. The man glared at the First Minister for a moment, then lowered his cane and backed off with his chest heaving.
‘General,’ said Chonas as he settled into one of the chairs in front of Creed’s desk, and the men behind him blinked in surprise, for it was hardly the place of a Michine to sit before a common-born, not even if he was the Lord Protector of Khos. The act was not lost on Creed either. He nodded to the composed old man who sat before him, a man he had known for twenty years and more, and whom he respected despite all the differences in opinion between them.
‘As Minister Sinese so graciously explained just now, you cannot pursue this plan of yours. We have come to repeal your orders immediately.’
‘On whose authority?’
‘On the authority of the council!’ snapped Sinese, taking a step closer again. ‘Or do you forget your station, man?’
The words hit Creed like a slap to the face, enough to feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. The rest of the Michine held themselves poised and continued to eye Creed with a cool passion. All at once, he felt the potential of violence amongst this gathering.
Ah, he thought wryly. So the gloves are finally off.
Creed sat back and casually drew open one of the drawers in his desk. A pistol lay within it, loaded and ready to be primed.
‘In case you haven’t noticed,’ he said to them all, while the windows shivered once more to the sound of the guns on the Shield, ‘we’ve been invaded by an imperial army of Mann. While we stand here bickering, foreign forces stand on Khosian soil. By the terms of the Concordance, as Lord Protector of Khos, I am now in ultimate command of the defences of this island.’ He looked hard at Sinese. ‘Above even you, Minister. That is the martial law as it’s written.’
‘I see,’ scoffed the Minister of Defence. ‘So now you wish to play at being a king, is that your game?’
Creed ground his teeth together to contain his temper. ‘I think it is you who forgets your place, Minister.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Please,’ said Chonas, raising a hand to calm them.
Creed continued to glare at Sinese. ‘You do not stand in the council chambers now,’ Creed told the man. ‘You stand in my office, and you would be advised to show some civility, or I shall have you escorted from this building under guard.’
The gathered Michine exploded with indignation.
‘Gentlemen!’ said Chonas above the sudden shouts of anger. ‘Please! Let us have some order here. Marsalas, we have known each other, you and I, for a great many years now. I respect you deeply, though I may never have told you that before now. All of Khos respects you. Every day the people give thanks to Fate that we have been gifted with such an able general in times as bleak as these. I speak to you as a comrade as much as your First Minister when I say this, so please listen. You cannot go and meet them in the field. You will be outnumbered more than six-to-one, not to mention their advantage in cannon. They will make meat of you.’
Creed sighed. ‘Always you think in numbers, my old friend. That is your problem, all of you. You think this is purely a matter of resources and where to put them most efficiently. But you forget what we are, what we have.’
‘You think the chartassa alone can save us,’ interrupted Chonas. ‘That is what you mean, is it not? The famous Khosian chartassa, feared and respected by our many enemies. The Giant Killer, the Pathians called it. Defeat, the Imperials knew it as in Coros.’ Chonas shook his head sadly. ‘No, Marsalas. It is you who are mistaken. I may be a tired old politician. Our fighting esprit may be strong. But still the numbers cannot be washed away by some vainglorious gesture of defiance. Yes. The chartassa will make for a fearsome sight on the battlefield. And then they will die, all of them. And Khos will be lost to us for good.’
‘What choice do we have?’ snapped Creed. ‘Let them rape and enslave every town in Khos while we hunker behind the city walls? Is that what you would have us do?’
‘No, Marsalas. If we had any viable alternatives, it is not what I would have us do. But it is the terrible situation we find ourselves facing. Even now, the Imperial Fourth Army masses on the Pathian side of the Shield for a major attack on the walls. Listen to their guns! Listen! Have you heard such a thunder since the first years of the siege? They will be coming at the walls with everything they have now, and they will not cease this time – while you, you would take half our men into the field on some reckless venture in suicide.’
‘You will have General Tanserine, one of the finest tacticians in all the Free Ports, here to lead the defences. And with enough men to hold until our return.’
‘And what if you do not return?’
‘Then you must hold them off until more Volunteers can arrive from the League.’
‘And how will we do that without the reserves you are taking with you? No. We make our stand here in Bar- Khos. What we can spare, we will use to fortify and hold Tume. We will dig in and await aid.’
Creed flexed his jaw. ‘If we dig in, we may all be dead before reinforcements have time even to arrive. If we fight them, we can at least buy ourselves some time. Sweet Mercy, man! The Matriarch herself is here: don’t you realize what an opportunity that is for us?’
Chonas bowed his head as though he was no longer listening. On cue, a man stepped from the gathering of Michine and approached the desk. He wore the stiff bleached garments of a city professional.
‘General Creed,’ the man announced. ‘If I may draw your attention to article forty-three of the Concordance: At all times, the defence of the Shield must be paramount when apportioning supplies to offensive or defensive operations.’
‘Who is this man?’
‘An advocate,’ explained Chonas. ‘We felt he might be able to shed some light on our differences, should any be remaining.’
‘An advocate?’
‘What the man is saying is this: we can refuse you blackpowder for those cannon of ours you wish to take into the field. It is written in the martial law.’
Creed was speechless for a moment. ‘You would let us meet them without guns?’
‘We are rather hoping, without cannon, you will not go at all.’
The First Minister looked at Creed from beneath his bushy brows. He leaned closer, and when he spoke, he did so quietly. ‘I know you, Marsalas. You have had enough of sitting in your chair behind the Shield doing nothing for all this time. You wish to have a proper crack at them, for all they have done to us, for the lives they have taken, for your own father who died fighting them abroad. You see this as a last chance to meet them in the open theatre of war and prevail. But it is a grand folly only. I implore you to see this now.’
General Creed sat back in his chair, disarmed by the truth at the core of the First Minister’s words.
