HISTORIAN: Well, that certainly sounds encouraging. Now, could you tell us a little about the strange circumstances surrounding Rika’s exit?

URTICA: I’m very sad to see that a woman would want to do something like killing her own people. It was simply wrong. I found out about it, of course, and I investigated further – it was clear that Rika and Eir had signed a document requesting the refugees be killed. The Inquisition followed it up, of course. The Council decided that this level of deception is unacceptable, so I did what I could to save thousands of lives and my efforts were rewarded by the Council.

HISTORIAN: Will you therefore be letting the refugees in as a peace offering in these dire times?

URTICA: Unfortunately no, the refugees suffer from dreadful diseases that could harm our people. And it is suggested there are tribal terrorist factions amongst them who wish to penetrate the city in order to destabilize our democratic ways. We cannot permit such a risk. Unfortunately, this might also mean that we must conduct more searches on the streets of the city – in such treacherous times, we must join together in purging Villjamur of such evil, tribal radicalism.

HISTORIAN: There were rumours of a botched military operation on the far side of the Empire recently. Could you enlighten your subjects as to those events?

URTICA: These are searching questions! I shall remain honest with you: several regiments of our brave soldiers were crossing an ice sheet when a savage band of Varltung warriors used cultist trickery to destroy them. Our troops didn’t stand a chance. As a result, I will be declaring open hostilities against all Eastern tribes and, as soon as is possible, we might initiate a full-scale invasion.

HISTORIAN: Some people have suggested that your missions to the Varltung islands might be merely to claim more resources. What do you say about this?

URTICA: It is utter nonsense.

HISTORIAN: Has your ascent to the most senior position of the Empire been challenged in any way?

URTICA: Well, it’s important to remember that I was in a hugely senior position even within the Council. Perhaps second only to the Empress in terms of role. Due to this fact, that I helped to save thousands of lives, and also that several other Council members supported me for Emperor, the majority vote was with me. We are not a barbaric people – of course the matter was debated heavily, and this is a democracy we live in, after all. I was the chosen one.

HISTORIAN: Chancellor Urtica – soon to be Emperor Urtica – thank you for your time.

URTICA: Thank you.

FORTY-SIX

Randur tramped along the streets of Caveside, collar flipped up, head down, a couple of bags slung over his shoulder. He was a totally focused man. His ribs still ached from the beating he received from the soldiers in Balmacara. The dogs that ran around his feet were skinny to the point of death, with no energy even to bark and he knew that feeling all right, was himself close to it right now.

He approached Denlin’s house, then stopped and stood looking at the door. If he was the religious sort he would have said a prayer right now, because things were that bad. He couldn’t believe what had happened, how his life had changed so quickly. One moment she was in his arms, amid the dazzling pinnacle of wealth and society, all elegant postures and smiles, the focus of everyone’s gaze. And now she was locked away with an order of execution hanging over her.

Randur didn’t believe for a minute that she was guilty. She didn’t have it in her, and he knew her almost better than anyone. And he couldn’t believe her sister capable either. This had the trappings of a set-up, but it was outside his control. You couldn’t fight directly with people that well connected, with that much influence. His problem now was how to get her out of there. If he succeeded, from that point on he’d be a hunted man, so he had to get himself well clear of Villjamur too.

He banged on Denlin’s door, glancing across the decaying structure of the house. There were architectures in this city that were beyond his comprehension, astonishing in either their complexity or simplicity, employing layers and techniques that were alien to more recent craftsmen.

The door creaked open. ‘… fucking knocking at this time? Oh, Randy lad, what can I do you for? You look right pissed off.’ Denlin, standing in white night wear, waved him in.

Randur said nothing as he passed through the doorway and dumped his bags on the table. ‘You alone?’

‘No, I have several of the most sexually active women in the city keeping my bed warm,’ Denlin muttered as he closed the door.

Randur sat down at the table.

‘What’s wrong then?’ Denlin took a seat opposite him, poured himself a cup of water from a jug, gesturing for Randur to help himself. The young man shook his head.

After a moment, Randur opened one bag, pulled out a purse of money, the same purse that Eir had given him as payment for Dartun Súr, and clutched it on his lap, frowning in contemplation of some distant fury. ‘I need you to gather together some of the toughest men you know. And to get hold of some swords.’

Randur explained the dramatic events at the Snow Ball, explained what his plans were.

Denlin observed, ‘A right bollocksed-up situation.’

‘You could say that. But can you help? Look, Den, I need your help now in a big way. It’s more than likely I’ll need you to leave the city with me, and I’ve no idea when we’ll ever get back. If, that is, we survive. We’d be going up against the city guard, and up against the Council. It won’t be pretty, however…’ Randur opened up the bag of money, then began to count it all out, all in Jamúns. Every next one that he placed on the table, Denlin whistled softly, his eyes growing wide.

Randur said, ‘I realize that it seems a lot, but this is for you if you help me out. It might go some way to providing a decent life for your nieces during the Freeze. It’ll buy them a nice education, decent food. Because you yourself might not have much use for it if you’re on the run. As for the rest of this money, well, we’re going to need the best weapons, the best fighters – a private army, if you like. Possibly the roughest bunch – ones most likely to have grudges against the Council and their kind.’

‘Shouldn’t be too hard, that,’ Denlin muttered. Then, ‘How many men do you need, like?’

‘However many it buys. It’s real danger money, but I need enough men to overwhelm the city guard.’

Denlin said, ‘And you want me to go with you, after it’s all done?’

‘Yeah, we’ll need some extra protection. You used to be a demon archer in your younger days.’

‘Aye, I was, lad.’ Denlin wore that distant look of a man remembering his youth, of those bittersweet regions that only he could explore. ‘This lot could keep the girls living well for years. A rare chance, given all the misery around. So to rescue this girl of yours, you’d give up any hope of helping your mother?’

There was no way Randur could rationalize his answer. It wasn’t simply a question of which one he loved more – there were different kinds of love involved. All he knew was that he must follow his current instincts. Maybe he’d regret it in the future, but he was someone who made this sort of decision on impulse. ‘It was her money to start with,’ he mumbled.

Randur held eye contact with the old man, and something passed between their glances. ‘I really need your help, Den.’

‘Aye, count me in. I never got to be a proper hero in the damn army, but maybe I can be to my girls instead. So, when d’you need these fellows by?’

‘Tomorrow afternoon at the latest. The Council plan to execute Eir and Rika at sunset.’