And that power was something he had helped guide. He had never known such a thrill, and he envied those Askhan generals and nobles who had such resources at their call every day. The swift taking of Magilnada was proof to Anglhan that the future was with the Askhans, and that it was far better to be on their side than against them.
"What are you thinking?" asked Furlthia. "You've got that look in your eye that I don't like. It's the same one you get when you've lined up a deal with a healthy profit, or when you've picked up a dozen debt tokens for half their value."
"Today Magilnada falls," replied Anglhan, "who knows what tomorrow will bring?"
"Funerals," Furlthia said. "Tomorrow there will be a lot of funerals."
"I mean all of the tomorrows to come, not just the day after this one."
"I know," Furlthia said, his mood grim. "And they will bring a lot of funerals too. The Askhans were never going to be a problem for us, not in our lifetimes, but now you've let them in you know they'll never be gone. It's what they do; take what they want, kill those that fight to protect what is theirs, and send the survivors from their homes to build new towns and cities."
"Ask the Ersuans, or the Enairians, or the Nalanorians what they think," said Anglhan. "I'd bet a herd against a calf there's not one of them that wouldn't want to send a message back to their forefathers, telling them not to fight, telling them that things would be better if they just accept the Askhan way. The Maasrites, now, they were the clever ones. Look at them now. But nobody learns, do they?"
Furlthia's expression was one of disgust as he tore his eyes from the city and looked at Anglhan.
"The only voice you're hearing is the sweet songs sung by gold. I hope that whatever you get is worth the price those people are paying. I'm done with this, and I'm done with you."
The former mate stalked off back into the tower, leaving Anglhan alone with Noran.
"Progress can be a harsh mistress," said Noran. "Many more people before yours have learnt that lesson, but now benefit from her sweet attentions. Ignore your man; he has a narrow, selfish view."
"You're right," said Anglhan. He rubbed his hands together and chuckled. "It's fools like him that have been holding me back for many years. Idealists like Aroisius; petty-minded merchants with no ambition; thuggish chieftains and bullies. It is time they woke up and realised the world is changing. Well, this old captain can smell which way the wind blows and I've never tried to move against it."
"What are you going to do now?" asked Noran.
Anglhan looked at the city and did not see the fires and the screaming mobs. He saw streets and markets not ankle-deep in shit; gleaming palaces of stone and gold; lines of merchants and farmers passing through the city. And through and under and above it all he saw taxes, his taxes as lord of Magilnada — chest upon chest of gold and silver, naked and lithe serving boys, fruits from Maasra, exquisite Askhan murals, hot baths and all the other delights of Askhan life he had heard about from the men in the mountains.
That was his future.
VIII
They had arranged to meet in a small house in the middle of the crafts quarter, seemingly stuck at random between a kiln and a forge. Dawn was just creeping over the city wall and Magilnada was quiet, cowed by the aggression of the disguised legionnaires. Ullsaard sat in the main room beside a dimly glowing firepit and waited for the others to arrive. He felt uncomfortable, and not just in mood. He was wearing the trousers that Salphors preferred and they chafed at his legs. He also wore a heavily embroidered shirt, the heavy red material patterned with blues and white. It was too fancy for his liking; Ullsaard preferred the clean cut and plain colour of his own wardrobe. He wanted to be in his armour, as befitted his new status as ruler of Magilnada, but he knew it could not be known that he was an Askhan general.
And that was why he was here, waiting for Anglhan and Noran. In the next room, watched over by several men, the previous ruler of Magilnada, Gerlhan, waited to learn his fate. The lord of the city had surrendered to Ullsaard's troops the moment they had come to Gerlhan's hall. Gerlhan had been smuggled through the city to this place so that the future of Magilnada could be discussed, but first Ullsaard wanted to straighten his own thoughts on the matter.
The door creaked open and Noran and Anglhan arrived together, behind them an escort of a half-company of legionnaires wearing a mishmash of clothes and carrying an assortment of weapons. Noran whispered something to their captain and the soldiers assumed a more mob-like appearance, breaking the lines they had naturally formed in the street,
"I bet you wish you had never trained them so hard," said Noran, crossing the room to slump into a chair behind the table. He looked even more haggard than when he had entered the city. There was water and beer, and he helped himself to the latter. "Good habits are as hard to break as bad ones."
"I think they're enjoying themselves," said Anglhan. "It isn't often they get to lounge around, drink and behave badly."
"As long as they don't lounge, drink and behave badly too much," said Ullsaard. "We're only here for the winter."
Anglhan stood at the firepit and warmed his hands, though the room was quite warm. He looked at the flames as he spoke.
"So that's still your plan, is it?" he asked, trying to appear nonchalant, but Ullsaard detected the slightest edge of expectation in the man's voice.
"It's never been my intention to stay here," said the general. He leaned to one side and grabbed hold of a low stool onto which he swung his feet. Ullsaard pushed his chair back on its rear legs and put his hands behind his head. "Somewhere nice to wait out the winter before we tackle Nemtun and Allon."
Ullsaard stopped as he heard raised voices outside. He recognised one as Urikh's.
"Let him in!" the general bellowed, half-turning towards the door. He hadn't invited his son to the meeting, but he had expected him to learn of it.
Urikh hurried inside, wearing a hooded cloak which concealed his face.
"What do you look like?" said Noran.
"An arse," said Ullsaard. He glared at Urikh and pointed to a chair on the opposite side of the fire. "Sit down and don't interrupt."
Urikh was about to argue, saw the look in Ullsaard's eye and thought better of it. With a curled lip, he settled into the chair and glared back at his father.
"As I was saying," the general continued, "the campaign begins again in the spring. As soon as the weather turns for the better, I'll be marching into Anrair with the legions. Murian is a coward; hopefully Nemtun hasn't got to him first. Anrair has the Third and the Fourth stationed along the border with the Free Country. I can find a much better use for them."
"So what happens here?" said Urikh, earning himself a frown from Ullsaard, which he ignored. "You don't plan on giving the city back, surely."
"Of course not," said Ullsaard. "When I have things sorted back in Askh, it will make a wonderful base to launch a campaign into Salphoria. Taking the city now saves us time later."
"Which means that you'll need to leave somebody in charge whilst you are leading the army," said Anglhan.
"And you think that should be you?" laughed Urikh. "Out of the question!"
"I nominate Noran," said Ullsaard. Both Anglhan and Urikh looked at the general in amazement. Noran said something, too quiet to be heard.
"What was that?" said Ullsaard.
"I do not want it," Noran said. "I am not staying here amongst these oafish barbarians while you run around doing whatever it is you want to do. Whoever is left in control will have to have eyes in the back of his head, and I am not one for looking over my shoulder like that."