VI
Noran had been right; Askh was far grander than Magilnada. Gelthius had never seen such a place, and it was as far from the mud-and-wood house he'd grown up in as an ailur was from the cats that chased rats around a barn. Peering over the shoulders of the legionnaires in front, he could see the white stone of the palaces and the dark shadow of the Grand Precincts rearing above a sea of tiled roofs. He saw the sun gleaming from golden domes, and minarets jutted from behind the walls like slender fingers, topped with colourful flags. These were places he had not even heard of less than a year ago, and now he was looking at them with his own eyes.
There was excitement in the legion. Today the city would be theirs. Gelthius heard scatters of conversation, as soldiers discussed the merits of what to take.
'No gold,' said one. 'It's too heavy and the markets will be full of it after we're done. Gold is for fools. Gems and cut stones, that's another matter. Easy to fill a bag with that stuff and it'll never lose its value.'
'I reckon I'll get me some tapestries and carpets,' said another. 'Send them back to the wife in Parmia. She'll be dead proud with covered floors and walls. That'll shut her mother up for a change, the craggy-faced bitch.'
'Head for the markets,' a third man had advised Gelthius. 'You want to make a quick bit of money, get all the grain, flour, fruit, vegetables, meat and milk you can. You'll need some wagons of course, but the first thing people need after something like this is food. All them with pockets of silver and jewels will give you a handful of their spoils for some apples and a leg of pork in a few days, mark my words.'
'I'm gonna find me one of those dark-haired Askhan women and fuck her 'til my cock's raw,' came one man's promise, which rather unsettled Gelthius. In his younger days Gelthius had taken his fair share of loot from a raid on another tribe, but had never got on with the rape side of things. He liked to spend a bit of time with a woman, but years on the landship had worn out his lust to the point where the only thing he wanted from his wife, when he eventually got home, would be a kiss on the cheek and a bowl of her wonderful lamb stew.
'Listen up!' barked Captain Anasind. The Thirteenth's commander prowled up and down in front of his men, his stare unforgiving. 'The general's got three rules. Break them and you're dead. Rule one: three days. Anyone not back in camp by Midwatch on the third day will be a deserter. Rule two: no burning. We've fought our way all across the empire for this place; let's not have it going up in smoke. Rule three: nobody touches the precincts, palaces or colleges. They belong to the general.'
Captain Anasind continued, explaining which parts of the city had been allotted to the Thirteenth. Gelthius shook his head in disbelief. The Askhans even organised their looting! Company by company, Anasind divided the legion's bit of the city. So this is civilisation? he thought. Calmly talking about who could rape who, and who could steal what? It all seemed a little strange to the Salphor. Yet the more Gelthius thought about it, the more it made a horrible kind of sense. Nobody wanted the legions to be fighting each other over the spoils. If everybody got their fair share, there'd be no backstabbing, nobody stealing from each other, setting company against company, legionnaire against legionnaire.
When they were given the order, the Thirteenth moved out in formation. There was no mad dash, no greedy sprint for the open gates. As Ullsaard's favourites, they would be the first into the city, and the officers had made it clear that the eyes of the army would be on them.
Smartly in step, icons held high, spears shouldered, the companies of the Thirteenth entered Askh. The city was quiet; thousands had fled in the night fearing what was to come. The companies split along the streets and after a while Gelthius could hear the splintering of doors being kicked in, angry shouts from those that had remained. He heard a scream from behind and turned to see a middle-aged woman running out of an alley, two legionnaires in pursuit. One tripped her with the butt of his spear and they grabbed an arm each, dragging her back to where she had come from.
At a crossroads, Gelthius's company ran into the fifteenth company and he saw Lepiris amongst the crowd. The two exturncranks met at the corner of a tall townhouse.
'Made it this far then?' said Lepiris. Gelthius nodded. 'Up for some looting?'
Gelthius shook his head. 'I think I'd rather get some sleep, right enough.'
Lepiris grinned. 'I'm sure we can find some beds somewhere, and maybe something to eat.'
Arms on each other's shoulders, the two of them headed after the others.
Askh
Spring, 210th Year of Askh
I
The sounds of looting echoed from Askh as Ullsaard rode towards the gate on Blackfang. He couldn't bring himself to come to the city earlier; better that he didn't see that first rush of the beast he had unleashed.
Just inside the shadow of the gatehouse he saw two figures sitting side by side, backs against the wall, legs outstretched with shields and spears leaning next to them. Several empty bottles littered the ground around them, along with bones, fruit skins and cores and other detritus of a sizeable meal. One seemed asleep, the other lazily blew smoke from his mouth, a bowl of gently glowing dried leaves held in his hand. Ullsaard caught the pungent whiff of hennek as the man slowly inhaled; a drug from Maasra favoured by the younger generation of Askhan nobility. The legionnaire looked up at Ullsaard, recognised him with widening eyes and attempted unsuccessfully to stand up. He wobbled in an uncertain crouch for a moment before falling back against the wall.
'It's all right,' laughed Ullsaard. 'No ceremony today.'
He recognised the face of the sleeping man.
'Weren't you two part of Aroisius's lot?' said Ullsaard, stopping Blackfang with a tug on the reins. He pulled her head to one side, away from the stupefying smoke of the hennek.
'Well, Anglhan's really,' drawled the legionnaire. 'I'm Lepiris. My companion is Gelthius. I apologise for his state, as he has, alas, been overcome with weariness. And not a little wine, which he has not drunk before today. I think he mistook it for the strength of ale.'
'Enjoy yourselves for the next two days,' said Ullsaard. 'But don't be late back to camp.'
'No, General, right enough,' said Gelthius, rearing up from his stupor and banging his fists against his chest in salute. He collapsed backwards, helmet tipping over his eyes.
Ullsaard laughed again and urged Blackfang through the gate. He rode quickly through the city, heading directly up the Royal Way. The last time he had been here, Ullsaard had been fleeing the city, fearful of a mob. The time before he had been parading in triumph with Aalun, the masses of Askh cheering his name. Today, those people cowered behind their doors and shutters, terrified of him.
Give it time, he thought. They'll be cheering your name again when you bring them the wealth of Salphoria.
There were no guards at the palace, and it looked deserted. Taking Blackfang to the stables himself, Ullsaard saw the evidence of a hasty evacuation. Once inside the palace itself, the emptiness was even more pronounced. Statues and tapestries had been taken, and there were empty alcoves where once golden vases and silver busts had stood. He had not seen a legionnaire so he knew the palace had not been looted — not by his men at least, but he suspected the king's servants had taken what they could once the king had fled.
His bandaged ribs ached as he walked along the corridors and halls, and it was with a weary hand that he pushed open the doors of the audience hall.
'I expected you earlier,' Lutaar rasped. Ullsaard looked along the hall in surprise.
The king sat in his throne, wearing a golden-threaded robe, a scarlet cloak hanging from his shoulders. And on his head sat the Crown.
'I thought I'd have to hunt you down,' said Ullsaard as he walked towards the king.
'I'm not running away from you,' said Lutaar. 'Besides, what would be the point?'
'And Kalmud? Erlaan?'
