Part 30 (1/2)

'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 fas.h.i.+on accessory anyway. With these b.l.o.o.d.y 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-s.h.i.+ps.'

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-s.h.i.+ps. 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 h.e.l.l 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 G.o.ds' 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.

It didn't last, though. 'Ven, where the h.e.l.l have you been?' Vetriz ambushed him as he walked back across the courtyard. 'Ranvaud Doce is here, he's been waiting for nearly an hour.'

Venart stopped and looked at her. 'Who?'

'Ranvaud Doce. You idiot, he's the new chairman of the s.h.i.+p-Owners'.'

'Oh. What does he want to see me for?'

Vetriz didn't even bother to answer that. 'And you'd better get rid of him quick, because Ehan Stampiz'll be here at noon, and if those two run into each other, I don't want to be anywhere near. And when are we going to write your speech?'

Venart glowered at her. 'I am not making a speech,' he said.

'I haven't got time to argue with you now,' Vetriz said. 'Doce is in the counting house. Oh, don't just stand there looking pathetic.'

Ranvaud Doce turned out not to be Ranvaud Doce at all; he was Ranvaut Votz (Vetriz had got the name wrong; she wasn't very patient with names), and of course Venart had known him for years. 'G.o.ds, you look shattered,' Votz said. 'Sit down before you fall down, and have a drink.'

'Brandy,' Venart replied. 'The white jug, on the side there.'

'Say when.'

'Whenever.'

The brandy helped, to a certain limited extent; but it was the kind of help that's probably counterproductive before noon on a busy day. 'Better not have any more,' Venart said ruefully, after he'd recovered from the burn, 'or I'll go straight to sleep. So, what can I do for you?'

Votz raised his eyebrows. 'Full marks, Ven,' he replied. 'You said that as if you really don't know.'

'Excuse me?'

'Don't be aggravating. Playing games is fine for business negotiations, but it's not really appropriate for a head of state.'