Gorgas laughed, as if the envoy had just told a funny story. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘unless you tell me where the report came from I can’t really comment. I suppose it’s possible that these troublemakers you’re talking about were my men, in the sense that they served with me at some time or other, but anything they may have done certainly wasn’t on my orders. Perish the thought. After all,’ he added, ‘I may not be a genius, but I’m not stupid enough to go picking a fight with the Empire for the sake of a bunch of merchants who’ve never done me any favours. That’d be suicide. Can I get you something to eat?’
The envoy looked at him startled, then shook his head. ‘No, thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry to have bothered you. Obviously, if you do find out anything about who might have been responsible-’
‘Of course. I’d be glad to have the chance to do something to show just how serious the Mesoge is about becoming a loyal and useful member of the Empire. I’m right in thinking, aren’t I, that we’re the first nation ever to join the Empire voluntarily?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ the envoy said, standing up and brushing moss and leaf-mould rather vigorously from his cloak. ‘One other thing before I go: have you by any chance heard anything from your sister or her daughter? We’ve had rather disturbing reports that suggest they may have been abducted.’
‘You don’t say,’ Gorgas replied. ‘It’s true, I haven’t heard from either of them lately. I was planning to write to Niessa soon anyway; I’ll see what I can find out.’
‘Thank you,’ said the envoy gravely, staring pointedly at the axe lying across Gorgas’ knees. ‘I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.’
‘Gateposts,’ Gorgas replied. ‘It’s a shame to fell this old oak – I remember climbing up it when I was a kid – but it’s stone dead; better to cut it down now than have it come down on the roof some windy night. And you can’t beat oak for gateposts.’
‘I’m sure,’ the envoy said. One of his escort held the stirrup for him and he lifted himself rather stiffly into the saddle. ‘Thank you for your time.’
‘Always a pleasure,’ Gorgas said.
By the time the envoy and his party were out of sight, Gorgas was nearly through, so he decided to finish off before going back to the house. He’d made cuts on three sides so as to be able to dictate which direction the tree would fall in; all he had to do now was cut out the remaining quadrant until he reached the point where the narrow core at the centre could no longer support the shearing force of the tree’s weight. Then he ought to be able to tip the tree down with just the pressure of his hand.
It fell well, more or less where he’d wanted it to go, and he allowed himself a moment of rest and satisfaction, leaning on his axe and listening to the soft patter of raindrops falling from the leaves of the tall elm behind him. It had rained all night, but the morning had been fine and fresh – if there was one smell that meant home, it was the sweet aftermath of rain.
It was a shame he couldn’t stay a little longer; but there was work to do indoors before he could get back to this job (and it had waited thirty years; it’d probably keep another hour without causing a disaster). He leaned the axe against the elm tree and walked slowly back to the house.
They were there, same as usual; staring at each other across the dark room like two dogs. Why his sister and his niece insisted on sulking like this he couldn’t make out, but he had a feeling that trying to bounce them into reconciliation would most likely do more harm than good.
‘Someone came asking after you two today,’ he said. Neither of them said anything. ‘From the provincial office, letting me know there was a chance you’d been – abducted, was the word he used. So you’d better stay indoors a bit longer, just in case they’ve got someone watching. I’m sorry,’ he went on, as both women protested angrily, ‘but I don’t need the aggravation of being caught with you two, not until I’ve had time to straighten things out.’ He sat down and pulled the cider-jug towards him; nothing like chopping down a tree to raise a healthy thirst. ‘I think we’ll go along with this abduction idea,’ he said. ‘What happened was, you were both kidnapped by pirates; they sent to me for a ransom, I pretended to play along, paid out the ransom, got you back, then went after the pirates and dealt with them. When someone gives you a perfectly serviceable lie, it’s only polite to follow it up.’
Not a word, from either of them. He sipped his drink and smiled; it had taken a while to get used to the taste of raw home-made cider again, but it was one of those flavours that grew on you, a sort of comfortingly familiar unpleasantness. ‘Mostly,’ he went on, ‘I don’t want to cause any upsets until Bardas has beaten Temrai; it can’t be much longer, so we’ll just have to sit tight. That damned Imperial was sniffing about that, too, but of course they can’t prove anything.’
Niessa turned and looked at him. ‘What was all that about, anyway?’ she said. ‘Someone told me you’d sent soldiers to the Island-’
‘Who told you that?’ Gorgas asked.
Niessa frowned. ‘One of the sergeants who came up here the other day, the tall ginger-haired one-’
Gorgas nodded. ‘I know who you mean,’ he said.
‘He assumed I knew all about it,’ Niessa went on. ‘I hope I haven’t got him in trouble.’
‘It’s understandable,’ Gorgas said. ‘After all, it’s not so long ago they were taking their orders from you, not me. It’s all right, I’ll deal with it.’
That didn’t sound very hopeful for the red-headed sergeant, who really had been most reluctant to tell her anything, but Niessa wasn’t going to let herself get sidetracked. ‘So what have you been up to?’ she asked. ‘You really shouldn’t play power-politics, you know. You aren’t very politic and you’re certainly not very powerful.’
Gorgas grinned. ‘It’s like cutting down a tree,’ he said, ‘it’s just a matter of making sure things fall the right way. I knew that if the provincial office had their way it’d be their general and the troops from the Island who ran down Temrai, and Bardas would only be there to round up the stragglers. Which would have been no use at all to anybody. So I made sure the fleet didn’t sail on time.’
‘You did?’ Iseutz asked, smiling. ‘Oh, sure. And how did you manage that?’
‘Easy,’ Gorgas said. ‘I went round some of the merchants I know on the Island, put the idea into their heads of trying to hold up the provincial office for more money. I expected it to be much harder work than it actually was; for a nation that call themselves businessmen, they’re as naive as they come. Of course,’ he went on, ‘I knew there was a risk the Imperials would do what they in fact did – annex the Island and get hold of the ships that way; but I wasn’t bothered by that, because I was figuring on Bardas catching up with Temrai in the open, rather than having to dig him out. So, when the Imperials made their move, I sent a few of my people to cause trouble on the Island; which they did, bless them, and now Bardas has the field pretty much to himself. It’s all turned out much better than I thought it would, actually.’
There was a moment’s silence. Niessa was shaking her head contemptuously. ‘One thing that occurs to me,’ said Iseutz. ‘Do you actually have any proof that Bardas wants to be the one to bring back Temrai’s head to the prefect, that it actually matters to him? For all you know, he was quite happy to potter about on the borders, well away from the fighting.’
‘Don’t be silly, Iseutz,’ Gorgas said. ‘I know Bardas, you don’t. When he sees an opportunity, he makes the most of it – he’s like me or your mother in that respect, I suppose it runs in the family. Look at how well he’s done already since he’s been in the army; he took Ap’ Escatoy for them, and now he’s in charge of an army with a field command and the chance to avenge a terrible defeat and restore the prestige of the Empire. They’ll have to give him a prefecture after this, it’ll be the making of him. And I don’t suppose he’ll be heart-broken at the prospect of settling the score with Temrai, either, though he’s not what I’d call a vindictive person. Unlike some,’ he added meaningfully, looking at Iseutz. ‘No, what Bardas has got that the rest of us haven’t is this strong moral sense; he’ll want to see Temrai punished, not out of spite or because it’ll give him pleasure, but because he knows it’s something that’s got to be done, and he won’t feel right until it’s been done and he’s done it.’