‘I understand,’ Stenwold replied smoothly, and he did, but it was one understanding among many. Yes, the Lowlander forces would have to work together, and there was nobody save Milus who could lead them – for the Sarnesh were the army’s iron core and they would follow nobody else. He found, though, looking into that solid soldier’s face, that trust did not naturally follow. He remembered the complaints about this man from Laszlo, and from his old friend Balkus.
There will come a time when we may have to part ways, he told himself, and knew that the skill would rest in judging precisely when that time was. The irony was not lost on him. He had been preaching ‘unity or slavery’ for years, and now it was a greater unity he was backing away from, because it looked as though it could become something very like slavery, if he was not careful.
‘I told you I could bring him.’ Sperra looked almost desperately proud of herself.
Laszlo was not sure what he felt about Sperra. He had worked alongside her in setting up the liberation of Collegium, and she was a clever, resourceful woman who would make a valuable ally. On the other hand, he knew she wanted something from him that was not his to give – or that was how he read her.
And, even knowing that, he still made use of her, and she – knowing what it was that he was plotting – allowed herself to be made use of. He had lost track, in all this, of the precise rights and wrongs.
Have to have a chat with Mar’Maker about ends justifying means, some day. Because philosophy was for Collegiate scholars, if any of them had survived the Wasps with their faculties intact.
‘That’s good,’ he told her. ‘Share our fire, Balkus. Come talk to the Bloodfly.’
He exaggerated. The Bloodfly was the inherited title of the feared Fly-kinden pirate leader, but while his uncle and former captain, Tomasso, was dead, Laszlo was not his successor. Solid, practical-minded Gude was currently aboard ship and many miles away, though. Out here, Laszlo led the little contingent of Tidenfree crew who were marching with the army. They were his people, and they were here for his purposes.
The big Ant whom Sperra had brought dropped down carefully, the little Fly-kinden giving him plenty of space. Balkus’s eyes flicked from his old friend Sperra to Laszlo – a very casual acquaintance – then towards the others he did not know.
‘This is Despard.’ Laszlo indicated the woman who served as the Tidenfree’s chief artificer. ‘This is Herve, Mallori, Scriena, Apello.’ Hard-faced Flies, all of them, pirates varnished over only lightly with respectable Collegiate citizenship. Shipmates and relatives all. ‘How’s life for the Princepi?’
He referred to the folk of Princep Salma, Sarn’s neighbour, who had been forcibly drafted into the army – or as good as.
Balkus glanced about, though the Tidenfree camp lay on the far side of the Collegiates from the Sarnesh majority, buried within the Mynan contingent, where hostile ears were likely to be few.
‘Not the best,’ the Ant confirmed. ‘Right now my former kin reckon we’re too much of a rabble for fighting, so they’ve got us waiting on them hand and foot – digging their privies, cooking their meals, sharpening blades. Which frankly wouldn’t be so bad, save I remember what I was told about how quick they were to shove us to the front when we were up against the Eighth. A lot of my bunch think that the Sarnesh see our contingent as just small change for their tactician to spend whenever he needs to.’
Laszlo nodded. He was amazed how calm he felt. ‘Tell me about her.’
Balkus glanced sidelong at Sperra again. ‘Well, she’s with the army, all right. Some of mine got a look at her – Fly woman, red hair, prisoner, like I was told. Milus keeps her close, and she’s locked up in a rail carriage all the time, as if she’s dangerous.’
‘Oh, she’s that,’ agreed Laszlo.
‘It’s not going to happen,’ Balkus told him flatly. ‘She’s in the middle of their camp. She’s under guard. Poke one sentry and everyone in the army will know it. There’s no way.’
‘There’s a way,’ Laszlo stated flatly. ‘Piss on Milus. Piss on the war effort. There’s a way.’ He was aware of how the others were now staring at him, as if this was some imposter who had managed to steal the face of their cousin Laszlo.
‘Look, I understand.’ Balkus’s face creased in worry. ‘Yes, it’s wrong. Yes, Milus is a bastard and something should be done. But the war—’
Laszlo met his eyes, unflinching. ‘You sound like Sten Maker.’ That was unfair. He knew Balkus and Sperra had gone to Maker to complain after the Sarnesh had virtually annexed Princep Salma, and they had been rebuffed. He himself had received the same treatment concerning Milus’s imprisonment of the woman he now proposed to rescue.
The Ant’s expression fell away, leaving Laszlo without clues.
‘It’s going to happen,’ the Fly told him. ‘If it happens, and Milus and Mar’Maker and the Wasps get to have their war, all the better. I think the Wasps deserve a kick in the parts, myself. I’ll lend a boot. But I will have her back, Balkus.’
At last those broad shoulders rose and fell, and Laszlo reckoned it was Sperra who made the difference, her support for him so against her own interest. The smile he sent her, the implicit encouragement, made a liar out of him.
‘Tell me what I can do,’ said Balkus. ‘No promises, though. I have my people to keep safe, and the Sarnesh wouldn’t need much excuse to put me in the next cell. But tell me what you need, and I’ll see.’
Thirty
The Slave Corps was busy.
Across the Empire, prison camps had sprung up at locations dictated by geographical convenience, the availability of transport or mere quartermasters’ fiat. They were hasty affairs, for the Empress’s orders had been unexpected, unprecedented. Bring me slaves, Inapt for preference. And in numbers, such very large numbers. But Seda’s writ was unyielding, and never before had the Slave Corps had such a chance to wield it.
They had started small. They had combed households and slave markets for Commonwealers left over from the Twelve-year War. They had bought Moths and Grasshoppers from the Scorpions – and not a few Inapt Scorpions as well. But the demand had just increased, the figures rising in leaps and sudden skips as Seda refined her calculations.
They had gone into Inapt communities within the Empire, such as the Grasshopper-kinden town of Sa, and simply levied a tax of bodies, a mass conscription of men, women and children. They brooked no argument, for they were drunk on vicarious power. They carried away trains of hundreds, even thousands.
They sent airships to the Principalities, those Commonweal states formerly under Imperial control and now close allies, offering to buy every slave they had, and the ships returned with full holds and set off again as soon as they had unloaded.
Then the conflict with the Spiderlands, which so many others had been decrying, began to pay dividends. A steady flow of prisoners from Seldis and points south became a flood, and the Slave Corps seized on them all, buying or trading or confiscating as the need arose.
And still the Empress demanded more.
At the last they began going to the gates of all the Auxillian cities, Inapt or not, and making their demands. They sent to the Lowlands. They sent to every compass point. The Empress demanded slaves and, while that demand existed, the Slave Corps – loathed and maligned by every other branch of the Imperial forces – was the most powerful force in the Empire.