‘How long?’ he managed to ask.
‘I found out last week. I… wasn’t sure whether to tell you, Ran. You’ve had so much to worry about lately-’
‘Hush,’ he said gently. He felt as though he was floating. ‘You can’t imagine what this means to me, Lena. I thought… It doesn’t matter what I thought. I’m going to be a father.’
She smiled at him then, her eyes wet with tears. ‘Promise me. Promise me nothing will happen to you.’
He held her close, stroked her hair. ‘I promise,’ he said.
The iron beating inside his chest seemed to swell. For that one, precious moment, the burdens he carried seemed to weigh as lightly as a feather.
He strolled through the waking city as the rising sun bathed the streets in scarlet. News of the approaching force had yet to circulate around the taverns and markets from which gossip spread like wildfire, but he knew that it would before long, and then Dorminia would be in chaos.
The spring in his step faltered slightly as he made his way through the Hook and tried to ignore the men in the gibbets above him. They stared down at him with pleading expressions, tongueless mouths emitting animal moans. Other than the gurgling of the Redbelly River nearby, they were the only sounds disturbing the dawn streets.
He turned off the Tyrant’s Road and onto the old Trade Way. The ancient road ran from the west of the city across the Hook to Dorminia’s eastern gates. From there it continued all the way to the borders of the Unclaimed Lands. To his left, the temple of the Mother reminded him of things he would rather forget. He wondered if Remy felt any guilt about betraying the rebel organization that had until recently operated from the old ruin. He very much doubted it.
Our new Master of Information now has a large estate in the Noble Quarter and an allowance to shame all but the wealthiest merchants. That will doubtless assuage any lingering feelings of regret.
Barandas was not particularly keen on what he had seen of the former physician, and it irked him to have such treachery rewarded with a place on the Council, but Timerus held sway in such matters.
He approached the city’s eastern entrance. The Watchmen on duty saluted him and hurried to unlock the huge iron gates, dragging them open to reveal the temporary wooden palisade beyond. Dorminia had been under a strict lockdown for over a month, with only government-approved tradesmen and soldiers of the Watch allowed to pass freely into and out of the city. The militiamen in the sprawling camp before him were allowed back inside Dorminia for only an hour every other day, and only in groups of a few hundred at any one time. The threat of rebellion or desertion was a constant concern.
Not that there were too many places for a coward to flee, he thought. Not unless a Dorminian was willing to risk the Unclaimed Lands where life was a daily struggle to survive. Beyond that lawless frontier lay the Confederation, a sprawling collection of nations loosely allied under the rule of a cabal of Magelords. Few ever made that particular journey, which was fraught with peril.
Shadowport had received a fair number of immigrants from Dorminia before the conflict over the Celestial Isles, but the Grey City had also taken in many coming in the opposite direction. Life was hard throughout the Trine, no matter where a man or woman called home.
And as ruthless as Salazar was, his rule ensured that Dorminia remained an anchor of civilization in a land that was slowly drifting to ruin.
‘My lord.’ A young officer saluted as Barandas entered the palisade and cast his gaze over the makeshift army stirring to life under a forest of bedrolls. The weather had blessed them: the recent heat had turned the rain-sodden grassland to hard turf, and conditions in the temporary barracks were far pleasanter than they would have been even a week ago.
‘I want every man gathered in the centre of the camp fifteen minutes from now,’ he commanded the young Watchman. The officer looked startled for a moment, then saluted and scuttled off to carry out his orders.
‘I am Barandas, Supreme Augmentor of Lord Salazar. I stand before you in Marshal Halendorf’s absence.’
He gazed down at the thronging mass of men assembled around the platform. The tide of humanity stretched back halfway to the walls of the massive palisade, faces young and old staring up at him with a multitude of expressions. He had never seen so many people in one place. He raised his voice so that those further back might hear, though he doubted whether the men near the edges of the gigantic crowd would understand a word. ‘News has reached us that the Sumnian army is but a day’s march away.’
There was a stirring below as the news was relayed by the men at the front to those behind them. ‘You will soon be called upon to defend your city,’ he continued. ‘To defend your homes. Your families. The Sumnians will show no mercy.’
Even this early in the morning the smell of unwashed bodies was strong. Barandas ignored the pungent odours of sweat and piss and wiped his moistening brow with the back of his hand. Then, in one smooth motion, he drew his sword and raised it up in the air. ‘We fight for the Grey City. For freedom. If the Watch falters, I need every man here to do his duty.’
There were a few ragged cheers, mainly from the older men. A great many faces stared back at him with stony expressions. A few turned and spat on the ground. ‘Freedom?’ exclaimed one voice from somewhere in the first half-dozen rows. ‘That’s a joke. The city won’t be free until Salazar is dead.’
Barandas stared down at the makeshift army and tried to locate the speaker. He thought it might have been a young man with cropped hair, but he couldn’t be sure. ‘If the Lord of Dorminia falls, the city falls with him,’ he shouted back. ‘There are many who wish us harm.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ yelled another man. ‘The Watch killed my brother. Dragged him away from his house and slit his throat in the middle of the street. What kind of ruler murders his own people?’
Barandas heard swords being drawn behind him. There were several hundred Watchmen assembled before the crowd, who were unarmed. If this continued things could turn ugly very quickly.
‘Mistakes have been made,’ he said. He knew that this was crossing into dangerous territory, but he needed these conscripts to believe in him. ‘You are aware of what occurred during the Festival of the Red Sun. Rebels tried to kill our lord. Perhaps the Watch has been… heavy-handed in the years since.’
There were mutterings behind him now. He had evidently upset some of the officers. It couldn’t be helped. He addressed the crowd one last time. ‘You will help dismantle the camp. Then you will assemble at the nearest barracks and await further orders.’
He turned to the soldiers behind him, nodded and then stepped from the platform. He searched around for Captain Bracka. He spotted the man talking heatedly with a group of his junior officers. He strolled over, noting how quickly they fell silent when they saw him approaching. Bracka scowled and threw a desultory salute. ‘Commandant,’ he said in a low growl.
‘How are we for weapons?’ Barandas asked, ignoring the man’s tone.
Bracka scratched at his huge red bush of a beard. He looked like a bear, and was said to have a temperament to match. ‘Every smith in Dorminia has been working flat out,’ he said. ‘But there’s been a shortage of iron. We used most of our reserves in the war with Shadowport. There are enough pikes to go around, but most of the swords and axes have seen better days. Some of them are more rust than steel.’
‘What about bows?’
Bracka snorted and flashed a black smile. Literally black — his teeth were rotten to the core. ‘Most of these bastards couldn’t hit a cow’s arse from five yards out.’
‘They don’t need to be accurate. They just need to be able to fire an arrow.’