Part 20 (1/2)

'As of recently, we do,' Marger confirmed. 'It's difficult, though. We want their schematics, their plans, but they're only prepared to sell us the finished articles. Reverse-engineering is always time-consuming, especially at the level of complexity that the Iron Glove are working at. And there are ... other complications.'

'Tell me.'

Marger shrugged again, but it was a shrug from the heart. 'Like I said, they're secretive, and we don't know for sure who's running the cartel. Only ... there are rumours.'

Thalric made an impatient gesture.

Marger grimaced. 'You must have heard of the Colonel-Auxillian? That mad halfbreed artificer who captured Lans Stowa and Falme Dae and Tark? Official records have him dead, along with the rest of the garrison at Szar, but ... the rumours keep coming back that it's him ...'

Thalric was thinking hard now. The armoured man had got the blows in, but he had lowered his guard in order to do it: he had let Thalric know who he was, and his armour alone marked him as a man high in the Iron Glove hierarchy. Where did Stenwold's renegade artificer fit in, though? Where had he gone after h.e.l.leron?

He wasn't at at h.e.l.leron h.e.l.leron. The recollection came suddenly, like a splash of cold water. He was the one that Scyla replaced, because the boy had run off to... Tark He was the one that Scyla replaced, because the boy had run off to... Tark. Tark, where the Colonel-Auxillian Dariandrephos had been practising his siegecraft.

'Send to the General,' he told Marger, who looked suspicious at the instruction. 'Get some clerk to dig out names of the artificers who were a.s.sisting the Colonel-Auxillian.' Am I right? Am I right? He knew he was right, but he had no evidence. He knew he was right, but he had no evidence. Drephos had survived or, if he hadn't, someone who worked with him did Drephos had survived or, if he hadn't, someone who worked with him did.

Oh, my armoured friend, I shall have you yet if I have to use the Empire to beat you to death. The thought brought a rush of satisfaction, soothed both the bruises and his damaged pride.

Marger was still looking at him. 'Actually, Major ...'

'What?'

'I'll be sending to the General as soon as I can get a messenger, but my report is incomplete. I need your help to complete it.'

'Of course, just ask.' In that moment, Thalric felt confident enough to be una.s.sailable.

'You have been somewhat on your own recognizance,' Marger said. 'I understand that you were sent here because of your familiarity with the Lowlanders in general, and now it would seem that we extend that to certain individual Lowlanders that are here. I need to know what your plan of action is, so that the General can endorse it, and so that you and I won't trip over each other.'

And there's a good question, for which I have no answer. 'I am still gathering information,' Thalric remarked.

'You seem to have established a rapport with the Collegiate amba.s.sador,' Marger noted. 'I can see the benefit of that. Do you intend to seduce her?'

The question stopped Thalric dead, both in thought and action, leaving him looking at Marger with a half-framed expression on his face. At the same time something stirred inside him, that might have been antic.i.p.ation, and the automatic answer: Why not? Why not?

'You're direct, Captain,' he said, expecting and receiving a shrug in return.

'She seems young for an amba.s.sador,' Marger said. 'Inexperienced. It is easy enough to keep track of the others, but she seems to appear and disappear almost at random. If you were able to establish some kind of a hold on her, it would serve us well.'

'I'll ... consider it,' said Thalric, his throat unexpectedly dry. In his mind the face that loomed before him was not Che's but that of the Empress. What word will wing its way back to Capitas now? When she draws me back there eventually, what other treasons will I have committed? What word will wing its way back to Capitas now? When she draws me back there eventually, what other treasons will I have committed?

Amnon arrived shortly after Che had left, which spared Totho the burden of too much introspection. She had not quite warmed to him yet, but it had been two years, and the circ.u.mstances of their last meeting had hardly been conducive to fond memories. She had a.s.sumed he was dead, while he himself had done his best, in that time, to discover where she was and what she was doing. The resources of the Iron Glove stretched to a little spying, and Drephos had tolerated his eccentricities.

The Captain of the Royal Guard sauntered in with a broad smile. His sheer robust energy made Totho feel tired.

'So, we are ready for my fitting then,' the big man began, with an enthusiasm that was almost childish. It doesn't matter how strange these Khanaphir are, everyone loves a new toy It doesn't matter how strange these Khanaphir are, everyone loves a new toy, thought Totho. Corcoran had picked out the First Soldier as the man they should primarily impress, in order to further the Glove's influence in Khanaphes. He was loved by the people, high up in the city hierarchy, and yet he was a hands-on commander always to be found in the front rank. It made him an ideal customer.

'My people are unpacking the armour even now,' Totho told him, once he had led Amnon to a room they set aside for testing. There were weapons on the walls, breastplates and helms displayed on armour trees. He imagined this man would want to try out his new mail as soon as he had put it on.

'I see you're wearing your own, still,' Amnon observed. 'Is it so light?'

Totho could not suppress a slightly shamefaced smile. 'It is new, so I'm wearing it as much as possible to get used to it. It's not the weight, so much, just the way I need to move in it.'

Amnon nodded approvingly. 'Armour and mounts and women, you have to get used to them all,' he said. He started to say something else, but paused to rethink. In a man normally so positive, the hesitation caught Totho's attention.

'You are one of these Lowlanders, are you not?' the big man said eventually.

'From Collegium, although I've travelled since then,' Totho told him. He felt the time since he had left Collegium as a physical distance, a desert that he could never recross.

'Collegium, excellent.' Amnon made a show of examining some of the weapons on the wall. 'Will you advise me, then, on a matter regarding Collegium?' His accent gave the familiar name an exotic sound.

'If I can.'

'How is it with the women there?' Amnon said, still not looking at him directly.

'The ...?' Totho let the sentence hang. Do I want to know what he means? Do I want to know what he means?

'It is like this.' Amnon turned to him, and his big, amiable face wore a defensive expression for once. 'One of the Collegium delegation has caught my eye. In fact, I find her quite the most beautiful woman there is.' He said it quickly, without fumbling the words in any way. 'I know she is not wed, or intended, but I have not spoken to her of my feelings yet. I am not sure how things are done where she comes from.'

Totho felt a sinking feeling. 'Is it ... the amba.s.sador?' he asked. No more rivals No more rivals, he thought. And certainly not this man, this absurd specimen of physicality And certainly not this man, this absurd specimen of physicality. He tried to imagine competing with Amnon, with all his smiles and prowess and position.

'It is the woman Rakespear,' Amnon announced, and Totho felt a wash of relief. He had only a vague idea of who Amnon meant, but it was not Che and that was all that mattered.

'In Collegium, one normally speaks to her father or her guardian' and that worked well for me, didn't it? and that worked well for me, didn't it? 'but there is no reason not to speak with her direct, or to offer her gifts. I think you'll find that Collegiate women are probably quite forward compared to what you're used to.' 'but there is no reason not to speak with her direct, or to offer her gifts. I think you'll find that Collegiate women are probably quite forward compared to what you're used to.'

'Good,' said Amnon, and he was about to say something more when Corcoran came in, not with the armour but escorting another guest. Amnon straightened to attention immediately, and Totho recognized the robed figure of the First Minister standing there with his quiet smile.

'My lord,' Totho bowed to him quickly, 'we had not expected you, but you are welcome, of course.'

'Of course,' Ethmet replied, glancing from Totho to Amnon. 'I had heard our First Soldier was to receive some gift today. It is very kind of you, Honoured Foreigner, and I would see it presented, if I may.'

'We would be happy,' said Totho, aware of a feeling of discomfort from Amnon. Is he breaking some rule of theirs? Is he breaking some rule of theirs? But Corcoran had done his groundwork, surely, and presenting gifts to high officials was every bit a part of Khanaphir life. Ethmet's face offered no clues. But Corcoran had done his groundwork, surely, and presenting gifts to high officials was every bit a part of Khanaphir life. Ethmet's face offered no clues.

They brought the armour out just then, four of his men manhandling the table on which it was laid. The mere empty sh.e.l.l of it, cast to Amnon's proportions, made Totho feel dwarfed.

'This is forged in what we call aviation steel, that the Solarnese developed for their flying machines,' he explained, as the Iron Glove men buckled the arming jacket on Amnon and then began to piece the armour onto him. 'It's very light, and still very strong, but they had never thought of using the material for armour until we came along.' The mail unders.h.i.+rt was already on, and Totho relished Amnon's surprise at how light it was. 'The mail rings are drawn from silver-steel wire, and they'll bunch on impact to block an arrow or a sword.' Totho walked around, observing as his people attached the metal plates, watching Amnon slowly disappear, becoming something huge and metallic. It was a glorious transformation, in Totho's eyes. 'The plates themselves are machined into flutes, which makes them as strong as much thicker metal, and which also helps deflect an enemy's weapon. Every surface a blade might impact on is curved or, where those curves meet, is an angled line. That means that you have the absolute maximum of protection against attacks from any angle. With the mail, and the jack beneath, the only weak points are the groin and armpit, although there is fine mail even there.' When the helm was lowered onto Amnon's head, they had to stand on the table to do it.

For a long moment there was silence. Totho watched Amnon making small movements, feeling the way the metal slid over metal. He looked like some creation of artifice, some colossal war-automaton. They had stripped from him all human frailties.

Then, 'No,' said Ethmet softly.

Amnon's helm turned quickly to face him.

'First Minister?' Totho asked, uncertainly.

'We cannot accept this gift,' the old Khanaphir declared. There was some expression, at last, on his face. He was shaken by what he had seen. 'We had thought it was mere armour. This is not armour as we understand it.'

Amnon wrenched off the helm, looking aggrieved. 'But, First Minister, I like this armour. It is lighter than my battlemail. I have never worn anything like it.'