“The Protectorate’s still got ships,” she pointed out to me. “And soldiers. And I got plenty of folks willing to shoulder arms and join this fight.”
“The Free Protectorate’s maritime forces are in a state of considerable disarray,” I replied, forcing as much patient sympathy into my tone as I could. We had discussed this matter several times and I have always detested repetition. “Desertion has robbed the Northern Fleet of at least half its strength,” I went on. “Whilst the rest are scattered throughout Mandinor and elsewhere. Not all regions are sympathetic to our cause, nor all officers. As for our soldiers, given that the success we have enjoyed stemmed in no small part from the unwillingness of the rank and file to fight, I have few illusions they would be willing to sail across an ocean to do so in a war many regard as just a fanciful rumour.”
“Convince them otherwise,” Fredabel said bluntly. “You’re awful persuasive.”
“No amount of persuasion can overcome hard realities. This nascent republic of ours hangs by the slimmest thread. I regard it as nothing short of a miracle that we have avoided outright civil war. Sending the bulk of our military strength off on an expedition from which it seems unlikely they will return is unwise to the point of folly, and I will not do it.”
Seeing a glint of anger spark in Mrs. Torcreek’s eye, I realised my tone had become more strident than I intended. “I am fully aware of and sympathetic to your concerns, Fredabel,” I said, striving to adopt a more sedate tone. “And, thanks to my recent communication with Captain Hilemore, I know how dire the situation in Varestia is. It pains me to say this, but in all likelihood the peninsular is already lost. This monstrous army will assuredly visit itself on the former Corvantine Empire before turning its gaze towards Mandinor. When that happens we will need to be ready to meet it, with all the weapons at our disposal.”
She stared at me with an expression it pained me to see on her face: deep, sorrowful disappointment. “Won your great victory over the corporate world,” she said. “Now you don’t want to risk it. If the White takes Varestia there’ll be no stopping it. The battle is there.”
I closed my eyes, sighing heavily and knowing our friendship was now in peril, but the burden of duty sometimes permits no recourse to sentiment. Power, I have learned, can be a lonely business. “I have made my decision, Mrs. Torcreek,” I said. “Thank you for coming.”
35th Vorellum
The man who came to see me this afternoon was slight of build, his suit neat and nondescript, as was his face, neither especially handsome nor especially ugly. In short, he was the kind of man it would be easy to miss. It quickly transpired that this lack of notability was far from accidental.
The nondescript man had taken his place amongst the multitude of those who daily come in search of a meeting with Free Woman Tythencroft. The only noteworthy aspect to him was his willingness to wait patiently and without complaint. In recent days I have taken up residence in the formerly vacated Ironship headquarters, it seeming to me somewhat perverse and self-defeating to eschew use of eminently suitable accommodation for reasons of anti-corporate prejudice. It also benefited from a large and unheated lobby devoid of seating of any kind, meaning only the hardiest and most persistent souls will consent to wait out the hours required to gain access to my presence. Most can be diverted to my deputies and sundry officials, but others are not so easily palmed off. The nondescript man offered a card to the receptionist which stated his name, an alias I won’t bother to record, and business: Trans Global Export Consultant. His stated reason for seeking an audience related to “valuable information concerning the state of affairs in Varestia.”
I had him brought in immediately. My brief but highly significant communication with Corrick had left me in little doubt as to the importance of events unfolding on the far side of the Orethic Ocean and I was keen to obtain all the accurate intelligence I could.
“This . . . army,” I said, “of deformed and enslaved people . . .”
“And drakes,” the nondescript man put in with a polite smile.
“And drakes. They are now advancing into the peninsular itself?”
“That is my understanding. It is estimated that they will, unless faced with considerable resistance, complete the conquest of Varestia within a maximum of two months. After that we expect them to strike north into the Corvantine Empire proper, or is it Republic these days? So hard to keep track, don’t you find?”
“We?” I enquired. “Your company seems well informed, sir.”
The nondescript man remained silent for a brief moment before speaking two words: “Exceptional Initiatives.”
My initial impulse was to reach for the small bell on my desk and summon the two Free Protectorate soldiers stationed outside my door. For one who has devoted years to the Voter cause, these two words cannot fail to provoke alarm.
“There is no longer an Ironship Protectorate,” I pointed out, silently commending myself for the steadiness of my voice. “Therefore, there is no longer an Exceptional Initiatives Division.”
The nondescript man replied with a short laugh, but otherwise said nothing, continuing to sit in patient expectation of my next words.
“What do you want?” I asked, choosing the obvious route as I was suddenly in no mood for any cryptic obfuscation.
The nondescript man cast a glance around the room before replying. “We want in. It’s cold outside.”
“You expect me to find a place for your vile organisation within this administration? I think you mistake the nature of what we are building here.”
“On the contrary, we understand it very well. Power, Miss Tythencroft. You are building power, and for that to succeed you need us.” His hand went into the inner lining of his suit and emerged with a sheet of paper, which he unfolded before placing it on my desk. I saw it to be a diagram of some kind, though the long cylindrical device it depicted was unfamiliar.
“This,” the nondescript man said, “is a blueprint for a weapon of unprecedented destructive power and accuracy. It is currently being produced at a secluded location on the Varestian Peninsular, ostensibly as a defence against the invaders in the north. Should that defence succeed, exclusive rights to and use of this weapon will then fall to whomsoever has authority over the region. Unless I misjudge your character, I assume you fully appreciate the significance of this intelligence.”