'Impossible,' said Nemtun. 'If he realises we no longer hold the Wall, he will be in Askhor quicker than a sailor jumps in a whore's bed. Whether he has Maasra or not makes no difference.'
'I disagree,' said Erlaan. 'If he has Maasra, he has access to the Nemurians and we do not.'
'We cannot defend two places at once,' said Adral. 'The bastard is still consolidating his hold on Nalanor. If we can get to Maasra first and raise some more legions, we can halt the momentum he has gained.'
'What will Kulrua do?' asked Erlaan. 'Will he at least try to fight?'
'What do you mean by that?' growled Nemtun, shifting his bulky form to face his grandnephew. 'Are you accusing me of something?'
'My grandson is right,' snapped Lutaar. 'If you had dealt with this problem when you had the chance, we would not be where we are now. I gave you legions and orders, and what did you do? You chased Ullsaard all winter to no effect and allowed him to slip past you into the mountains.'
'And you,' the king rounded on Adral. 'You gave up the crossings of the Greenwater without so much as an arrow loosed or a shield raised. You have fifty warships and yet you let this man walked through Nalanor without hindrance. We have given him these successes without a fight, because the two of you have failed to act.'
'I have heard enough,' said Lakhyri, striding to the centre of the hall. He turned his masked face to the court of the king. 'All of you: leave. I will speak to the king alone.'
'Who do you think you are?' said Nemtun, heaving himself to his feet. 'You best remember your manners and who you address, Udaan.'
Lakhyri did not dignify the outburst with a reply, but simply looked at the king. Lutaar realised something was amiss; his eyes narrowed as he looked at Lakhyri.
'Do as he says, leave us,' said the king. He continued to stare with suspicion while the others departed, Nemtun and Adral continuing to voice their grumbling discontent as they did so.
Silence filled the hall as Lakhyri ascended the raised platform on which the throne was placed. He stood directly in front of the king, who watched every move like a hawk. With slow deliberation, Lakhyri raised his left hand to his mask and, reaching inside his hood, unfastened its strap. He pulled the silver mask away, revealing his own rune-etched features.
'I guessed it was you,' said Lutaar. 'I have been expecting a visit for some time.'
'We have much to discuss,' said Lakhyri. 'Your leniency has been uncharacteristic. Ullsaard and the chaos he threatens must be stopped before winter comes. If he is not destroyed, it will be the end of all that we have strived to create. You cannot fail in your duty to our masters.'
Lutaar pursed his lips and his brow wrinkled at the prospect.
'I understand that. I will accept whatever help you can offer. Between us we can deal with this upstart.'
'We will, my brother,' replied Lakhyri. 'We will.'
Askhira, Maasra
Midsummer, 209th Year of Askh
I
The dockyards were a cauldron of ceaseless noise. The thump of wooden mallets was so intense and so prevalent that Jutaar retired to his rooms every night with his head still pounding. The rat-tat-tat of rivet hammers, the buzz of saws, the creak of tensioned rope, the thud of planks and the constant pattering of bare feet intruded into every moment of Jutaar's waking life, and often his dreams.
It had seemed a simple enough job that his father had given him. Build a fleet large enough for fifty thousand men, to sail hotwards along the coast and make landing on the dawnward shores of Askhor, beyond the mountains that separated the homeland of the empire from its surrounding provinces.
And it should have been simple. Jutaar's father had drafted thousands of labourers from the shipyards along the Greenwater, nearly doubling the number of men in the port of Askhira. Carpenters and sailmakers, caulkers and coopers, overseers and ledgermen, all put into action the orders of the general, attended to by a similarly sized army of cooks and traders, wives and whores. To house them, three architects from Nalanor had arrived, with even more men to raise long tenements along the sea front, and to build new docks so that more ships could be laid down. All under the watchful gaze of the Tenth Legion.
Jutaar had only to keep an eye on things, to make sure the monies were paid, the materials supplied and the workers protected. Yet this had proven more difficult than he had been led to believe. Amidst the overcrowded workers' apartments, tempers flared regularly. Small incidents had a habit of sparking large confrontations, and four times Jutaar had sent in companies of the Tenth to suppress potential riots.
It was not just at home that the work force was unhappy; the labourers were constantly fractious with their masters, the captains argued with the harbour masters, and disputes between suppliers often brought the flow of materials to a standstill. Accidents happened every day, most of them minor, but several were more serious and had claimed the lives of nearly two hundred men in total. There were rumours that the endeavour was cursed, but how and by whom nobody would say.
That such superstition had taken root was in itself a symptom of the Brotherhood's absence. Not a single black-robed Brother could be found in all of Maasra, nor in Okhar, or Nalanor or any of the other provinces outside Askhor. It came to light over the course of a few days; in towns and cities across the empire, the Brotherhood disappeared. The precinct pyramids were deserted, their doors locked, their windows barred. This sudden departure had a twofold effect. Most obviously, the machine of state ground to a halt. Without the Brotherhood and their taxes, censuses, marriages, funerals, quotas and archives, people's everyday lives were left without structure, while commerce became sporadic and returned to a small-scale, local trade more common in savage places like Salphoria and Mekha.
It was just not the practical issues that bedevilled Jutaar and the others attempting to run Ullsaard's newly acquired domains. The people of the provinces felt abandoned without the Brotherhood. There was a strange feeling in the towns; a hushed fear around the empty precincts; an unsettled atmosphere in streets where black- robed figures no longer walked.
Jutaar knew that his father and brothers thought him slow and somewhat dim, but he was not without some thoughts. It occurred to him that a Brother might simply take off his robe and be indistinguishable from any other man. It was unlikely that hundreds of Brothers across Maasra were mysteriously spirited away by some strange force; Jutaar firmly believed that the Brotherhood were still around, but had chosen to hide in plain sight.
He had written to his father to warn of the fear that the Brotherhood were agitating against Ullsaard. Jutaar knew enough about the morale of men to understand that it takes little to turn uncertainty into fear, fear into anger. It was Jutaar that had persuaded Allon's legions that they had no chance against Ullsaard, and taken his father's offer of a new allegiance to them. He had seen firsthand the disquiet sown by his father's manoeuvres and half- truths, the lies spread by his men through the ranks of the common soldiers. Now, as far as Jutaar could tell, the Brotherhood were retaliating in kind.
Men already working long shifts to build a warfleet did not need much of a push to start complaining. An act of sabotage, a whispered voice of dissent, could fan the embers of annoyance into something far more dangerous.
Other than asking for advice from his father, Jutaar could not see what else he could do. He kept the Tenth close at hand and walked the docks every day with kind words, resolving disputes, reminding people of the great venture they were embarking upon and the age of prosperity they would all enjoy under the rule of King Ullsaard. Jutaar was lavish with the treasury of Maasra, despite many complaints from the governor, Kulrua, who was by nature a miserly, bureaucratic man. Each ship completed was celebrated with a feast for all and Jutaar continued to build more homes to give the workers more space.
Despite this generosity, he felt that all of the gold in Magilnada, Nalanor and Okhar would not assuage the growing resentment of his newly subject people. Every time the legionnaires broke up a fight, every time a timber
