‘Is it all right to do these buckles up now?’
‘Yes.’
‘You sure? Only I don’t want to have to do them again.’›
‘Positive. Now put on the gorget – there’s a little catch at the side, look…’
‘You mean this collar thing?’
‘That’s right,’ Temrai said patiently. ‘The gorget.’
Tilden raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t see why you can’t just call it a collar.’
‘Because it’s a gorget,’ Temrai said. ‘You’ve found the little catch? That’s it. Right, now all I need are the gauntlets and the helmet, and that’s that done.’
‘You mean the gloves. And the hat.’
‘Quite right. The gloves first, then the hat.’ He held out his hand. ‘You’ve got to pull it on by the cuff – no, not the metal cuff, there’s a leather lining, see?’
‘It must be awfully hot in all that lot.’
‘Yes, it is. Now hold it firmly while I wiggle my fingers in place – I said hold it, for pity’s sake.’
‘I’m doing my best,’ Tilden said. ‘Try again.’
‘That’s better – no it’s not, the useless bloody thing’s not on straight, it’s slipping round the side of my hand. Pull the cuff-’
‘I’m pulling. It’s stuck.’
‘What? Oh, right. I’ll bend my thumb a bit, see if that makes any difference. Try it now.’
Eventually the gauntlet was persuaded into place – ‘It’s pinching my wrist, there, between the cuff and the vambrace,’ Temrai complained. ‘I’ll just have to make sure I only fight against southpaws’ – and Tilden picked up the helmet; a one-piece sallet that came down over Temrai’s face like a steel pudding-basin, with one narrow slit to see out of. She settled it on his head and stood back.
‘Temrai?’ she said.
‘What?’ His voice sounded far away and faintly comic; but the fact remained that Temrai wasn’t there any more. The steel had finally closed around him, like quicksand.
‘Nothing,’ Tilden said. ‘Can you manage to stand up in all that?’
‘I think so,’ Temrai’s voice bumbled through the steel, ‘if I take it slowly.’
As he stood up, Tilden watched the joints, the layers of articulated lames, rippling like the muscles of a scale-skinned dragon. There was nothing human there, except for a vaguely familiar shape. ‘You forgot the shoes,’ she said.
‘Sabatons.’
‘What?’
‘Sabatons. That’s what they’re called.’
‘Fine. Do you want them or not?’
‘Can’t be bothered,’ said the echo of his voice. ‘What I do need, though, is my sword. Over there, by the wash-stand. ’
Tilden brought it to him. ‘Does that tie on as well?’ she asked.
The helmet nodded; up, flexing the lames of the gorget, and ponderously down. ‘Over my shoulder and round,’ it said, and the left-hand vambrace, cop and rerebrace lifted into the air. ‘Come on,’ it said, ‘I can’t stand like this indefinitely.’
‘Can you get it out of the scabbard?’ Tilden asked dubiously as she fastened the last buckle.
‘Probably not, but who cares? It’s just a fashion accessory anyway. With these bloody gauntlets on, I’d need someone to fold my hand around the hilt before I could hold it.’
‘You look very funny,’ Tilden said. She didn’t think he looked funny at all; quite the opposite. But she had an idea he wouldn’t want to know what she really thought. ‘Don’t fall over, whatever you do.’
‘I’ll try not to.’
By the time he’d walked from his tent to the gatehouse, Temrai felt much more at ease. It was as if the armour was growing on him, like a cutting grafted on to a tree. It was awkward rather than heavy, until he made an injudicious movement and upset the balance; then he had to make an effort to get his weight back on the soles of his feet. He wondered if that was how he’d felt when he was a child, learning to walk for the first time.
They were waiting for him; Sildocai, his second in command Azocai, most of the general staff. ‘Very smart,’ someone said. ‘Can you breathe in there?’
‘Yes,’ Temrai said, ‘but I can only just hear you. Get this helmet off me, someone.’ As he emerged he took a big gasp of air, as if he’d been under water, or in the foul air of the mines. ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘So, what’s happening?’
Sildocai, who’d been looking at him as if he’d never seen the like, pointed at the tiny figures moving about below them. ‘That’s his siege train there,’ he said. ‘Well out of range still; we’ll let them know when they’ve come too close. He’s got his cavalry out front in case we make a sortie, try to run him off, so I wouldn’t recommend that. They’ll probably spend the rest of the day pitching camp, making themselves feel at home.’
Temrai tried to make out what he was pointing at, but all he could see were dots and blurs. ‘He’s welcome, ’ he said. ‘What about a night-raid, like we’ve been practising?’
‘Could do,’ Sildocai replied, without much enthusiasm. ‘I’d prefer to wait a day or so, until they’ve deployed their artillery. I’d like a chance to cut a few ropes, do a bit of damage before they start the bombardment.’
Temrai nodded; the gorget creaked and graunched. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘Are they using the river at all?’
‘Haven’t seen any signs as yet,’ replied a man whose name Temrai couldn’t quite remember. ‘Probably he doesn’t want to risk fire-ships.’
Sildocai grinned. ‘Very sensible of him. Well, they’re worth keeping in reserve, in case he tries to build a causeway across the river. We’d better keep a few surprises up our sleeves.’
‘He won’t build a causeway,’ Temrai said. ‘He’ll use boats; that’s after he’s shot up our engines. That’s when we’ll use the fire-ships. Of course he’ll be expecting that, too; but there’s not a lot he’ll be able to do about it.’
Sildocai looked at him. ‘You seem pretty sure about that,’ he said.
‘I am sure,’ Temrai replied. ‘We’ve been through all this before, if you recall.’
‘Have we?’
Temrai nodded. ‘Oh, yes. Different war, same situation. Unless he’s better at being me than I was, I know exactly what he’s going to do. And he knows what I’m going to do, of course.’
‘Right. Do you fancy sharing any of this with us, or is it a secret between you and him?’
‘For the last time,’ Venart protested wearily, ‘I am not the government. We haven’t got a government. We’ve never had a government before. We don’t need a government now. Can you understand that?’
The man looked at him for a moment. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘So you’re not officially the government; but you led the revolution and chucked the bogies into the sea, so like it or not you’re in charge. And what I want to know is, when am I going to get my compensation?’
Venart was ready to burst into tears. ‘How the hell do I know? And who started this rumour about compensation anyway? I didn’t.’
‘So you’re saying there isn’t going to be any compensation? ’ said one of the other faces in the crowd. ‘Is that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, you may think it’s right, it wasn’t your warehouse that got burned down. You want to come with me now and explain to my creditors that it’s all right?’
‘No, I didn’t mean right like you’re saying-’
‘Perhaps you should say what you mean, then,’ said the face, scowling furiously at him. ‘You could start by telling us why you’ve suddenly decided there isn’t going to be any compensation.’
‘I haven’t decided anything,’ Venart groaned. ‘It’s not up to me-’
‘So you haven’t decided yet. Any idea when you’re likely to decide?’
Vernart took a deep breath. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Now for gods’ sakes, let me through.’
That didn’t go down well. ‘You’re just going to walk away and leave us here guessing, are you?’ someone shouted.
‘I’m going to walk into my house and take a leak,’ Venart replied, ‘like I’ve been wanting to do for the last half hour, only you won’t let me. Now get out of my way or get wet, the choice is yours.’
When he’d finally managed to close the door behind him, he sprinted/hobbled round the courtyard to the outhouse as if pursued by wolves. When he came out again, he felt much better. Remarkable, he thought, how so simple an act can impart such a feeling of well-being.