This time Salazar’s eyes flickered dangerously. ‘The Celestial Isles are a fragment of the heavens themselves. There is more magic in those islands than anywhere east of the Fadelands. You suggest I hand the White Lady enough power to conquer the Trine and beyond.’
Halendorf sat back in his chair, his face pale.
Salazar took another sip of wine. Barandas and the other two magistrates held their breath. ‘We require more Augmentors,’ said the Magelord eventually.
It was the turn of Timerus to shift uncomfortably. ‘Lord Salazar,’ he began, ‘our mining operation at the Wailing Rift is proceeding as efficiently as possible. We cannot go any faster-’
‘Silence,’ Salazar commanded, interrupting the Grand Magistrate, whose narrow brow immediately moistened with sweat. ‘We will search further afield. Three days’ sailing west of here, on the edge of the Broken Sea, is a deposit of magic that will serve to replenish my power — both for the creation of new Augmentors, and to defend the city when the White Lady eventually shows her hand.’
Marshal Halendorf swallowed hard. ‘My lord, you refer to the Swell?’ His voice faltered on the last word.
‘Yes,’ the Magelord replied coldly. ‘Inform Admiral Kramer that he has a singular opportunity to redeem himself. He will captain a crew and sail to the Swell. There he will oversee a new mining operation.’
Timerus licked his lips. ‘My lord, the Swell is the very reason the Azure Sea is now named the Broken Sea. Even in death, the Lord of the Deep punishes those who would violate his resting place. Sane men will not venture near the Swell for all the gold in Dorminia.’
Salazar frowned. ‘Then we will send the insane, the desperate, those already condemned to death. I trust you will not fail me in this, Grand Magistrate.’
Timerus bowed his head obediently. Wise man, thought Barandas.
‘Fear not, Supreme Augmentor,’ continued the Magelord. ‘We will see your force restored. For now, however, there is a matter that requires your attention. The Grand Magistrate will explain the details.’
The Magelord rose unsteadily from his throne. ‘I must rest now. Ensure I am not disturbed.’ After draining the last of his wine, Salazar shuffled slowly from the chamber.
Barandas emerged from the Obelisk in the early hours of the morning. A fierce storm still raged, plastering his blond hair to his face and sending his crimson cloak dancing wildly behind him. Droplets of rain rolled down his golden armour and somehow worked their way into his boots. He gathered his cloak around him as tightly as he could and bent his head to the storm. If he hurried, he could catch a few hours’ sleep before sunrise. Tomorrow would be eventful, and besides, Lena would be waiting for him. He imagined the scent of her hair and smiled despite the foul weather and the squelching in his boots.
Barandas wasn’t blind to the suffering of those less fortunate than he was, and he knew the city could be a hard place for many — but at least it worked. Long ago, Salazar had taught him that a strong man does what is necessary and not always what is right. Barandas had reflected on this over the years. He had concluded that, as always, the Magelord had been correct. Who could understand the necessity for difficult actions as well as a man who had overthrown the very gods?
Mindhawks, the Black Lottery, the creative methods used to extract information from potential insurrectionists and traitors… these things were regrettable, but how else was a city to survive and prosper in the face of threats both from within and without?
A faithless population, Salazar had once declared, was like a leaf carried in the breeze, quick to twist and turn in whichever way the wind pulled it. Strange notions could be born and then spread like wildfire. In the absence of the gods a soul searches elsewhere for nourishment, and in such circumstances insurgency was but one determined demagogue away. Better to ensure compliance through fear than to see Dorminia torn apart.
When Lord Salazar’s justice needed to be imposed upon those wishing the city harm, the Supreme Augmentor was its implacable weapon.
Barandas approached his large estate in the south-east corner of the Noble Quarter and nodded at the doorman sheltering under the veranda. The man saluted quickly and unlocked the ornate entrance doors. Barandas strode through into the hallway and up the winding staircase, ignoring the muddy footprints his boots left on the new carpet.
A soft light flickered from beneath the bedroom door at the end of the corridor. He approached and knocked softly, not wishing to startle Lena if she was sleeping.
He needn’t have worried. The door opened almost immediately, and then she was standing before him, her beautiful face filled with worry. She pulled him into the room and threw her arms around him.
‘I was terrified, Ran,’ she whispered into his chest. ‘Kyla told me what happened. How could you agree to it? It’s different for you. You could have died!’
Barandas ran his fingers through her hair. It smelled of jasmine, as always. ‘I had no choice. What kind of commander would I be if I stood aside while my own men placed themselves in danger?’ He wriggled his arms free of Lena’s embrace and reached behind him, unfastening the buckles that held his breastplate in place. Lena pulled it away and lowered it gently on the floor, then helped him remove the padded jacket he wore beneath. She stared at his naked chest for a time, tracing a finger down the jagged scar that began just below his clavicle and divided his well-muscled torso down to the base of his sternum. Then she drew her hand away, as if afraid she might inadvertently harm him.
Barandas smiled at her. ‘Really, I’m fine,’ he said gently. He bent his head forwards and kissed her deeply. Her mouth tasted of plum wine. He glanced across to the dresser beside the bed where a candle illuminated a pitcher next to a half-empty glass. ‘You’ve been waiting up for me all this time?’ he asked.
‘You know I have,’ she replied. ‘I tried finishing the poem I’ve been working on for the last week, but it was no good. I was sick with worry.’ She seemed about to say something else, only to change her mind at the last moment. Her face became grave. ‘Tell me, Ran, is it true? About Shadowport?’
Barandas nodded grimly. ‘They were our enemies,’ he said, in response to her shocked expression. ‘Better to end this now than for yet more of Dorminia’s soldiers to die.’
Lena looked unconvinced, but she nodded and helped him with the rest of his armour.
‘I have a busy day tomorrow,’ he said. ‘But we’ll make some time for each other, I promise. I love you, Lena,’ he added, watching her undress. ‘I do what I do for you.’
‘I know,’ she replied. ‘I love you too.’ She blew out the dying candle and joined him under the blankets. He felt her warm body press up against his.
A man does what is necessary. For his lord. For his city. For love.
The Joys of Laughter
Brodar Kayne’s knees ached.
They’d departed the ruined temple just after midnight to find the storm hadn’t let up. An hour spent trudging through the sodden streets had caused all his old scars to chafe against his damp leathers, and to add to the discomfort his bones had started to protest.
It don’t get any easier, he thought ruefully. At least Jerek had calmed down now, retreating into a sulk after his little outburst. He splashed along sullenly at the rear of the group, cussing under his breath occasionally and shooting dark looks at the world in general.
The streets sloped gently downwards as they made their way south towards the harbour. They passed sagging groups of buildings that loomed in the darkness like gigantic beasts. Occasionally a flash of lightning would illuminate the night sky and render the individual buildings in ghostly shades of monochrome. He saw warehouses hard by tanneries, coopers’ establishments nudging chandleries, and apothecaries’ shops abutting brothels, the last no doubt by design. He’d never seen so many different trades packed so tightly together.