My remaining tasks that day went slowly, even though I worked faster than usual. When I went back to the workshop in the evening for my supper, the place was empty. So, having eaten, I took the ladders and winch-lift down to digging level. No one was down there either. The lanterns I’d hotted this morning were dimming, but there was still enough light for me to scale down from the scaffolds to the floor. Among the rocks and scattered tools around the sleeping rubble-raiser, I sat cross-legged on an outcrop and pulled back my sleeve.

Again, I popped the torque’s lid and saw my face stare back at me in ridiculous detail. When that white blaze had launched at Rusper, I’d been so sure it was going to kill him. But it hadn’t. It had healed him instead, given him back his eyesight . . . In the dark brown of my own eyes, I counted the pinpoint reflections of every single lantern on fifth level . . . twenty-one.

‘What are you?’

‘. . . spark.’

Only the hint of a whisper answered; I could have imagined it, though.

I pulled the torque’s lever towards me and opened the Sight. Concentrating harder than ever, I pushed my awareness of the space down through the rock of the hill. Wherever a crack opened in the sandstone and granite, I made sure to squeeze in, and through, and down, tracing its route. Most routes stopped dead. And when they did lead into hollows, these were barely wide enough to fit a standard secondary lateral. The deeper I pressed, the tighter the surrounding mass closed in. Real or imagined, all the compressed rock of the hill seemed to exert a kind of pressure on what I was within the Sight, that both numbed and confused me. But I kept at it, kept trying. The Builders’ roads were down there somewhere – I’d seen them.

‘Naemian.’

For a moment I thought the Disc was speaking again. But this time it hadn’t happened in my head. I opened my eyes, cut off the Sight and looked around. Above, on the scaffolds, there was Hetch. Just barely, I thought I saw his sandrat clamber down a scaffold-strut.

‘What do you want?’ I said, annoyed. My voice echoed through the cavern.

‘You,’ he said.

‘No, you!’ I snapped up at him. ‘I asked for your help and you lied. You told me my friend wasn’t at the warehouse!’

‘That was no lie, Naemian,’ he replied. ‘He was not there.’

‘Yeah, I know that now—but you’re everywhere, Hetch! You must’ve known he was with Loquar.’

‘Loquar . . .’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know who that is!’ But he only shrugged and made a face I couldn’t read inside his cowl. I shook my head, fed up with him. ‘Please go away.’

‘You’re to come with me, Naemian.’

‘Go away.’

‘Viceroy’s orders.’

----------------------------------------

Hetch scuttled ahead of me, up and out of the Deep. He led me through the grey hall of columns towards the council chamber doors, and into the same round antechamber in which he’d left me once before. We crossed the chilly little room. The way onto the stairs to the upper balcony was open already, and only now did I realise that those spiral stairs went down as well.

‘Be careful, Naemian, it’s dark. I shall go slowly for you.’ Everything he said was annoying, although the warning was a fair one. Not only was the stairway utterly dark, but the steps were also littered with stony gravel that must have come down from its ceiling; only a little scuffed aside by recent feet. I went at an angle, counting steps: fifty-six of them, and two turns. Up ahead, a prick of light.

Hetch bowed elaborately when we entered. I saw a circular stone table with seats for twelve; six of them filled. The single oil-lamp burned low, but I could see the room was round. A gutter rimmed its perimeter, broken only at the entrance by two stone hawks with necks upturned and beaks wide open.

‘Don’t gawk. Sit down,’ said Rusper. I turned at the sharpness in his voice, now seeing him in the seat that faced the stairs, across the table. Elbows propped and fingers crossed, he gave me a wry smile. ‘Any one.’

This room must be directly underneath the Sanhedrin council hall, I thought as I obeyed, my sandals scraping like a gristmill in the hush. I approached the table and wormed my body into the stone seat across from him. The two seats either side of Rusper were empty. Further to his left sat Caliph Omran, irritably patting at the dust on his sleeves. Along to Rusper’s right were Marszal Savhar and another soldier I didn’t know. Also a woman. This was a new thing to me—women soldiers. She stared at me for a few moments before Savhar leaned at her ear. ‘The Elmine, the one I mentioned.’

The soldier’s eyes hardened a bit. ‘A child?’

Rusper twitched. ‘Ekharaan. I beg your patience and courtesy, if you please. This boy, ekhin Flint, is not only trustworthy and astute, he is essential.’

We were waiting, clearly, for something or someone. Now Rusper turned to watch the fat caliph grooming his thobes like a preening pigeon. I could still hardly believe that the Disc had cured his blindness.

‘My apologies for the state of the room,’ he sighed. ‘I don’t know that it’s been much in use since Satrap Hyphet’s time. It was, of course, constructed by Hyperion’s guild, as a vault, though I believe the doorway mechanism no longer functions, sadly.’

The fat caliph stopped attacking the dust and looked up. ‘Why are we sitting in the dark, please?’

‘Because,’ said Rusper, ‘following the incident on the fortress wall, my eyes remain somewhat sensitive to strong lights. You understand.’ As Caliph Omran bit back another question, I saw that in the hours since I’d seen him the skin all around those eyes had gone bright pink and puffy. I didn’t like it.

Footfalls echoed on the stairs and Plamen entered like a wind between the hawks. ‘Forgive my lateness.’

‘That I’ll forgive,’ said Rusper curtly. ‘Where’s Mondric?’

The High Commander walked with purpose all the way to the Viceroy and leaned close over his seat. ‘He is not necessary.’

‘You have my instructions. I won’t proceed without him.’ Rusper said this with just the slightest hint of warning, then raised a thumb to his mouth and chewed the skin. Plamen straightened. Showing only due respect, it seemed, for the Viceroy’s authority in the presence of others, he obeyed; boots returning up the stairs behind me.

This time, as we waited, no one said anything at all. Pretending to look into my lap, I studied the soldiers. The Marszal Savhar, now out of swathes, wore a cuirass and headdress over martial leathers. And the new woman, younger and leaner than Savhar, lighter of skin, wore much the same although her headdress was down. She had sharp features, high cheekbones and long black hair severely bound with hempen cord. Hard beauty.

Hetch toed the gravel on the steps.

When, minutes later, the Captain’s voice ricocheted out of the stairwell, Rusper straightened in his seat and put his hands into his lap. Plamen came first, taking a place between Rusper and Omran, while I turned around to see the Captain. That he knew nothing of the meeting until this moment was clear on his face when he passed the hawks. His clothes were plain: a loose shirt, an open tunic and a pair of ruddy breeches. A man off-duty. ‘Viceroy.’ He said it lightly, but I could hear the suspicion.

‘Captain.’ Rusper gestured to the seat beside mine, and I winced. Mondric walked heavily, as always, to the table and gave a grin when he saw me.

‘Tools! Still working your way up the old ladder, I see.’ I ducked sideways before he could tousle my hair as usual, but then he clapped my cheek instead. Rounded his seat. ‘Heard about your part on the wall. Very good. Seems if it wasn’t for your piping up when you did, we’d be in an even bigger pelkhish mess.’

Plamen, who had lowered his forehead into his palm, now sat upright. ‘There are soldiers present, Captain.’

‘I meant no disrespect,’ said Mondric as he flopped into the seat.

‘We’re assembled then,’ said Rusper. There were seven of us. ‘Perhaps a little more light.’

The dwarf raised a decanter. Tipping it at the beak of one of the hawks, he trickled oil down its open throat and into the gutter. I heard the liquid surround us, wetting the stone. Then he applied the flame from the oil-lamp, a shallow light growing in a border around the table. And even though the rim of the gutter blocked the tongues of the fire, Rusper shielded his eyes and blinked repeatedly behind a sleeve.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Now man the stairs, if you will.’

Hetch spat on the lamp and shuffled out of the vault. Only when his feet could no longer be heard on the steps, did Rusper gesture to the group.

‘I thank you all for answering my summons tonight,’ he said and extended the gesture to his right. ‘Marszal Savhar and Artabh Keda of the Methan Regiment.’ Then to his left. ‘Caliph Omran of Laudassa. High Commander Plamen, of course. Captain Mondric of the Guard. And my own hand, Florian Flint.’ All eyes swung to me, but he pulled them back. ‘We are here, ekharaan, not to discuss options. Nor, as it may seem, to conspire. We are here, as will be known to some of you already, because chance has presented me with something which may turn the tides of our war.’

‘War?’ Mondric chuckled. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Nor are we here in levity, Captain. You know the part that I must play.’

‘I’m not a politician,’ he scoffed back. Plamen stiffened again, but this was Mondric’s way.

‘Let us dispense with preamble.’ Rusper lowered his eyes and blinked again with some obvious discomfort, or even pain. I didn’t like it at all. Then he looked up: ‘I am consenting to the immediate dispatch of a single unit of the Methan Regiment.’

Muscles tightened in Mondric’s jaw; as he was right beside me, I heard his teeth clamp down and creak. He regarded both the Marszal and the Artabh, just briefly. ‘For what purpose?’

‘It is my intention to locate the Ratheine infiltration point,’ said Rusper. ‘They entered our pipeworks by an underground water-system of some kind, most likely a river that adjoins our aquifer at some level. It has been proposed to me, and wisely, that the choicest course of action would be to discover that river. Such a mission needs soldiers.’

‘Soldiers the Satrap forbids.’

‘Correct.’

The two men held a stony gaze. Then the silver-haired guardsman folded his arms and exhaled. ‘You’ll do as you see fit. You are the Viceroy.’

But Rusper shook his head. ‘This is not a bid for blind eyes, my good Captain. I’ve had enough of those of late.’ In Mondric’s silence, I wondered if he was only now realising that Rusper could, in fact, see again.

‘Then why’m I here?’ he said. ‘You know my loyalty is binding.’

‘I want your willing cooperation. Both now, and in the future.’

‘Have I not—’

‘Yes, Captain, you have. That is, shown support to the Viceroyalty at a time when royal decree has rendered my position all but untenable, and your own distinctly complicated. It has not gone without regard. I am asking for more.’

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Plamen’s snort, though it was soft, turned more than one head; the other Vedans watching the exchange very closely. Even I had little doubt that the Captain would stand up and leave us right then. But he didn’t move. His face was grim and his eyes were locked to the Viceroy’s. He wasn’t a fool; I’d never thought so.

He loosened phlegm. ‘I’ll hear you.’

For an explanation of an object that could miraculously move my body across any distance, it seemed, and open eyes inside my mind, Rusper’s was drier than I would have thought possible. But he was practical, as always. To my surprise, Mondric remembered the “jewel” his guards had taken that day in his office, thinking me then just a thief and a vandal of the colours. To the claim that it held arcane power of any kind, he said nothing. Merely turned his eyes towards me once or twice. By the end of the account, his gaze was back on the Viceroy.

‘And you would have me defy the Satrap for this, what was it . . . this disc?’

‘We cannot ignore its potential,’ said Rusper, looking at me as if in reference. ‘Whatever it truly is, Florian’s Disc offers us the precise advantage we need.’

Mondric leaned back. ‘Send out more scouts.’

‘They stand no chance now. We cannot know how many Rath inhabit the point of infiltration, not to mention that the northern desert is crawling with them. Scouts will perish in the search. And so will Florian.’

‘Ah!’ Mondric puffed. ‘So you would send the tool-boy on this mission? Well, you have some enterprising uses for Elmines, have you not!’

First I’d heard of it, too.

‘The Disc answers to his touch and his alone,’ said Rusper. ‘Furthermore he knows the dangers and, I believe, the alternative.’

Did I?

‘Its power is evident,’ said Marszal Savhar. She chose some odd moments to interrupt. ‘Not only does it grant this sight-of-mind to the Elmine boy, it healed the Viceroy of his blindness.’

Rusper glanced at me, just for a second.

But then Caliph Omran interrupted. ‘Begging your pardon, Honorary Caliph, but your eyes look far from healed to me.’

‘They can see and that’s enough.’ The Viceroy opened his hands on the table. ‘Captain, I’ve nine days at the most. After that, the Satrap wills that the Deepworks must continue, whether or not the pipes are stable, and I will be left with no choice but to continue in the forging of our destruction. Senera Amyra knows this. She will use it to herd the Sanhedrin around me and call for the First Circle to overrule my standing as Viceroy. Now, you may very well arrest a vizier for such sedition, but when the Sanhedrin stands unanimously against me, your power as keeper of the law of Antissa will shrink to but a vestige, little more.’

Mondric’s chest rose with outrage, but Rusper raised a calming hand. ‘But,’ he continued, ‘the Sanhedrin is not yet quite the nest of vipers Amyra thinks. The absence of four caliphs is felt on the scales most heavily now, and those caliphs would of course place the safety of their territories before the interests of a puffed-up civic council. The caliphs, as always, could sway the First Circle in this matter, especially having as I do the support of the capital’s people. They could divide my opposition and weaken Amyra’s hold. I have already pledged to do what I can for the middle caliphies by way of military support.’ He gestured to Omran. ‘Here is the Caliph of Laudassa, with whom I shall begin to fulfil that pledge.’

‘Yet you spoke of Methan soldiers,’ said Mondric with another glance at the two officers. ‘Why not deploy Laudassan men?’

‘It little matters to the balance which men are chosen,’ Rusper replied. ‘Nor is the defence of Laudassa my purpose in detaching this unit from Antissa. As I’ve explained already. I would unearth the Rath’s river, and for that the High Commander has seen fit to detach his fastest: Methan cavalry. The Caliph-Archimandrite of Methar, with whom I closely correspond, is also in accord. Both he and Caliph Omran accept that the arrangement comes with terms of allegiance to this undertaking, for if it remains favourable that the mission be kept secret from the Sanhedrin—’

‘If it fails,’ said Mondric.

Rusper nodded with grace. ‘If it fails . . . we’ll need footholds. If, in nine days, the Methan unit has uncovered no underground system in the northern desert, then the cavalry with not return to Antissa at all. It will ride to Laudassa and garrison the clerical settlements there. Caliph Omran, in exchange, swears his confidence and full support in council henceforth.’

‘It is as the Viceroy says,’ said the fat caliph. ‘He has kept his word to me and I have given him mine.’

Rusper continued, gaze pinned to the listening Captain: ‘I’ve sent news by falcon to Caliph Bardon in Chidh Uribb. As for Arif, I will wait for the finding of our river. When the Caliphate is assured of our military upper hand, they will rally behind the Viceroyalty again.’

‘Caliph Arif will most assuredly stand behind you,’ said Omran. ‘The prospect of breaking the Rath’s hold on Verunia will no doubt secure both his support and regiment.’

Mondric grunted. ‘You speak as if the Satrap had already lifted his decree. And here I sit, audience to your treason.’

‘Treason?’ said Plamen. ‘Who is guilty of the greater treason, Captain, when your loyalty spares not a thread for the true welfare of the Vedish?’

Hands on chair-arms, Mondric hefted himself forward.

‘Steady now,’ said Rusper; Plamen duly sitting back.

Mondric was slower to do the same, saying slowly: ‘I’ll ask again. What do you want from me, Viceroy? Speak plainly and I’ll answer. But do not presume to think that all this will simply grind and halt, in whatever mind I should turn from this chamber. I may be a guardsman, but I’m as Vedish as any other at this table’—except for me, I thought—‘And I fear for you, Symphin.’ His voice dropped lower. ‘You’ve been pushed.’

Again, Plamen sat forward; again Rusper raised his hand. ‘He didn’t call me a delirious fool, Commander, he said I’d been pushed. It’s the truth.’ I didn’t understand how he was so calm. ‘And were it not for the Disc, I should still be resisting that push. This has nothing to do with who wears the Viceroy’s medallion. We have a chance to protect our city at a time when the walls of the fortress may no longer be capable of that.’

‘You evade my question,’ said Mondric, arms still folded. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want you to ease the passage of cavalry from the fortress at dawn,’ Rusper said.

‘How many men?’

At this, Rusper nodded to Marszal Savhar. She addressed the Captain: ‘With the approval of High Command and the Caliph-Archimandrite Bardon, I have formed a tactical unit from the cavalry of the Eighth.’

‘Mounted scimitars?’ said Mondric.

‘That’s correct, ekharan,’ answered Savhar, raising her brows at Mondric’s knowledge. ‘That cavalry is the swiftest of the army, long inured to erg travel. Under the direct leadership of the High Commander, and myself, we believe it will be effective in crossing the northern distances at speed without confrontation with the Rath. You may, if you wish, sir, think of it as another scouting party.’

‘That’s almost a hundred men and horses,’ Mondric retorted loudly. ‘I’ll have no part in it—scouting party, my arse!’

Slapping his big hands to the table, he stood to leave the vault of stone. No one stood to try and stop him, or even spoke until he passed between the two hawks.

‘Then I will halve it,’ said Rusper. Plamen seethed; I turned in time to see Mondric stop with one boot on the first step, scraping gravel. I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of fewer soldiers going out there, but was more worried right now about what would happen if the Captain left us here with half a plan. I already wanted it to work. I wanted to make it work—myself.

But Mondric shook his head, sadly. ‘Perhaps you’re a fool after all,’ he said to Rusper. ‘With or without me, you are flouting the laws I uphold. And there beside you sits the High Commander of the Mooncircle Army, aide to the Viceroyalty and one man in Antissa who might manipulate the entire Fortress Guard while I file my nails in the bath. Yet you make me privy to your plans. Why risk it?’

‘Because I’m no more a politician than you are,’ said Rusper without a moment’s pause to think. ‘And I’m not the Satrap to whom you swore your oaths, nor in fact any true head of his Caliphate. That Satrap is mad, Captain.’

Postures stiffened all around the table.

‘You know this,’ said Rusper. ‘I am his minister, an engineer burdened with the care of his realm against my will. And I am a citizen of Antissa who would dare to believe in good faith among Vedans. Am I a fool for that?’

Mondric took his foot off the step. Inhaling deeply, he propped an arm on the head of a head of a hawk. ‘You are,’ he breathed. ‘It’s too many men.’

‘That much is fair,’ Rusper agreed. ‘Marszalekh, the company must halve.’

Despite Plamen’s clear unhappiness, Savhar nodded. ‘It is done, sir.’

‘Fifty men and horses,’ Mondric tallied as he slowly came back to the table. ‘The High Commander, Marszal and Artabh, at least a half-score of hands to mind provisions. And the boy. I still count more than sixty.’

‘Fifty-eight,’ said Plamen, staring straight ahead into nothing. ‘Hands have been chosen already.’

‘Let me repeat,’ said Rusper gravely. ‘Regardless of number, the company is to depart Antissa from with no combative intentions. Confrontation will be avoided at every cost, you understand, as it will be possible to outrun—’

‘Outrun the Rath, with supply carts?’ Mondric blurted.

At that, I sat upright and looked at him myself. ‘We did it,’ I said. The combined weight of years bore down on my head as everyone around the table looked at me. I shied from the heat in the Captain’s face, but didn’t let it scare me. ‘We made it to Antissa in carts. We outran them that night.’

To my surprise, my words were met with a shallow medley of nods. So, I guessed, some of them knew I was a borderland refugee after all.

Mondric leaned on the back of his seat with his wrists. ‘All of these promises you make, Symphin, are meaningless to me. As upholder of law, the mission of this company makes no difference once it gets beyond the walls. No matter its purpose, it amounts to contravention of decree, and by the Satrap and your enemies alike, seen as high treason. For all I care, it may try to invade Lostrian Ered.’

At that word he’d said, my blood boiled. ‘She’s the one who treasoned!’ I shouted.

‘Flint . . .’

‘You know that, Captain, I know you do!’ He didn’t answer or look at me. ‘I’ve seen her plotting with the viziers. She’ll turn them against the Viceroy. The Satrap’s Viceroy. And you’re going to let her!’

As soon as I heard my voice’s echo, my cheeks went hot. Someone say something.

Mondric did. And looked at me. ‘Which viziers?’

‘Huh?’

‘Which viziers exactly did you hear the woman speaking with?’ he asked me calmly, as if my earlier outburst had been no more than a sneeze. Rusper’s eyes were on me too, under a different shape of frown.

‘I only saw the one actually,’ I admitted. ‘One of those men who wear blue gowns and those big . . .’

‘First Circle,’ said Rusper softly. I nodded. ‘Do you remember the name?’

I thought hard. ‘Like . . . Bassar? Brasta?’

‘Basra,’ said Rusper and Mondric together, glances meeting without a challenge this one time.

‘You are certain?’ said Plamen.

I nodded tightly. ‘Yes sir.’

The Commander leaned back in his seat, two thoughtful fingers on his lips, while Mondric sat slowly forward and crossed his own on the table. At least two minutes stretched in silence; Caliph Omran dozing now.

Then Mondric said, ‘Here are my terms.’

Rusper’s brows went up.

‘You’ll have my help and you’ll have my silence in this endeavour you’ve contrived. But be well warned. Should any of this come to light, it is you—Honorary Caliph—and you alone, who will face the wage of your defiance before the throne. I cannot save you from that.’

Rusper bowed his head. ‘Agreed, just as you say.’

‘The company will depart before dawn,’ Mondric went on. ‘It will use the Trader’s Gate to avoid any confrontation with the Shield. My watch will not be removed.’ Rusper frowned. ‘We are at war, ekharan, no matter the lies we espouse in the name of civic order, and as Captain of the Fortress Guard I refuse to leave a single fortress wall unmanned. I will delay the changing of the watch and post a proxy in its stead. Men sworn to silence.’

‘Men I can trust?’ Rusper put to him sternly.

‘Leave that to me.’

‘We’ll need a signal,’ murmured Plamen, almost completely to himself.

‘Crop Yard wall,’ said Mondric, seeming to have anticipated this. ‘There’s a row of four lantern-posts. Know it?’

Rusper nodded, ‘I do know them.’

‘When all four are shuttered, open the gate.’

The dozing Caliph Omran suddenly jerked in his seat and mumbled something about wafers. Plamen sat still, cool eyes on Mondric. Rusper sat back. ‘It’s settled then.’

‘Not the choicest words,’ Mondric grumbled, narrowing his eyes. ‘Don’t make me regret it.’

‘Four lanterns before dawn,’ answered Rusper, as if that were any kind of response. ‘Artabh Keda.’

‘Ekharan?’ said the new woman-soldier.

‘You’ll remain here at the fortress. In six days, send out a falcon to ascertain the company’s position. Then ride to rendezvous and muster the Laudassan cavalcade.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Flint.’ Prepared for orders, I looked up. ‘You, I trust it’s clear, are the mission’s central component. Its success or failure depend on what you can discover through the Sight of that Disc. Thus, in order that you may better guide his company through the north, I am placing you in the High Commander’s care. Report to him. Understand?’

Guide it, he’d said.

I looked to Plamen—still, grey eyes—and back to Rusper. ‘Yes, Caliph Symphin.’

Nodding, ‘Between your departure and the re-routing of the unit for Laudassa,’ said Rusper, ‘you’re to find us a Ratheine river.’