Diggsy laughed. One of the others was shaking their head. Jeza said, ‘You don’t know much about cultists, commander.’
‘Excuse me?’ Brynd replied.
‘I mean, you might think they’re all high-powered and respect them and stuff, but. . what you might not know is that some orders take in kids.’
‘Of course, I’ve heard of such things.’
‘Have you heard of abuse rings? Have you heard of cultists taking in dozens of young children promising to show them all the riches they can imagine, only to lock them in windowless rooms? Bringing them out just to test technology on them, or sexually abuse them.’
A silence fell in which Brynd considered the way Jeza spoke. She seemed totally unmoved by her past.
‘My apologies,’ he said eventually. Tough kids, these ones. .
‘Ah, think nothing of it, commander,’ Diggsy said. ‘We were the lucky ones. We managed to scrape some knowledge together and get the hell out of there — others are still trapped, being beaten or worse. We got out, we stuck together and used the only thing we had — our knowledge of relics.’
‘Not to mention stealing a load of relics when we ran away,’ Jeza pointed out.
‘True,’ Diggsy smiled faintly, sadly.
There was a charm about these youths that Brynd admired. They’d done things the hard way — there was a lot to be said for that.
‘So tell me the details of what you’ve achieved here,’ Brynd suggested. ‘I want to know what makes your work so special.’
Jeza told him, in approximate terms. Cultists were vague and spoke in heavy jargon, but she explained things in a very simple way. Lim could conduct rituals with relics — remnants of old technology as well as gemstones and tribal accoutrements he had brought with him from Varltung. There were tribes who worshipped such things in distant, remote valleys of that island. And sources of energy were provided to reinvigorate dead ‘cells’ — or make body parts quite literally spark into life. Jeza called it palaeomancy. The others chimed in with colour and examples to clarify this life science. Brynd concluded he would never fully understand the ways of a cultist.
‘Tell me in plain terms: what can you offer the army?’ Brynd asked.
‘As I indicated in my letter we’re developing things you might be able to use on the battlefield — though these are currently still in development.’
‘I still need to see something.’
Jeza nodded and sauntered off into a dark corner of the room, where she rummaged around on a shelving unit. She returned a moment later clutching a small black item, and handed it over to Brynd, who examined it.
It was the size of a plate, half an inch thick, smooth on one side, and slightly curved. He attempted to bend it, but couldn’t, then tried a little harder — but still did not move it out of shape. ‘What am I looking at here?’ he asked.
‘This is the material we’ve made. It’s strong and durable, and a fraction of the weight of metal, but not at all finished. We can make armour from this material. And we’re nearly there.’
A couple of them headed outside to get some more cheap wine they’d been storing in the ice. The rest of the group sat around with Brynd on upturned crates, sipping wine from wooden cups. They offered him one of their many hammocks, but he politely declined.
‘You weren’t involved in the war,’ Brynd said, ‘so what made you contact the authorities now?’
‘Word was that you were looking for new forces,’ Diggsy said. ‘We saw them posters you put up all over the place. I reckon we’re in a position to supply you with some of those forces, depending on what you need.’
‘Yes, of-’
‘It’ll cost you though,’ Jeza replied coolly. ‘We’ve also heard that bankers are looking to give a lot of cash to the army. If we can get a little contribution for working with you, we’ll be happy enough. That could change all our futures. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?’
They were young, but definitely not stupid. Brynd took a sip of the wine and winced. One of the girls — Pilli? — chuckled and said something about no one liking their drinks.
‘Of course if you’d rather we sold this stuff elsewhere. .’ Jeza started.
‘No,’ Brynd replied, ‘that won’t be necessary. We can arrange a contract, I’m sure. But I’ll need to see what you’ve actually got first, and I’ll need guarantees — you see, you’re a lot younger than people I normally deal with.’
‘Just because we’re young doesn’t mean we’re unreliable,’ Diggsy said.
‘I mean, just look at what we’ve achieved so far,’ Jeza said. Then, to Diggsy, ‘I knew no one would take us seriously.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Brynd said. ‘What we’re dealing with here is something quite unnatural and untested, and — to be honest — I have no idea if what you’ve got can be deployed in military use yet. For example, can I make requests?’
‘We can look at that, sure,’ Jeza confirmed. ‘But before we go on, we just want to know you’re interested.’
‘There are many details I wish to mull over,’ Brynd continued, ‘but you should know that yes, I am interested — and I can assure you that money’s not a problem.’
Brynd placed his cup on the floor and stood up. ‘Hopefully then you’ll be able to buy better wine for your guests.’
He offered a smile and extended a hand to Jeza. She looked up at him with amazement, as if she had not expected him to take them seriously at all.
‘Write to me again, but next time I want to see something finished and ready to test.’
She shook his hand. ‘Sure, we’ll have something in a day or so. You won’t regret it.’
As Brynd left with the Dragoon archers, he realized that this was one of the few times in his life when he’d met a group of people who did not appear startled by his skin colour.
SIX
A day later, Brynd rode south on his mare, with Randur Estevu alongside him on a skittish grey colt, which he did not seem able to keep under control.
Late afternoon sunshine was sliding from the sky, leaving an oily residue across the clouds.
The road out of the city was lined with wiry horses and oxen. Bored-looking beasts trudged along the mud-tracks hauling felled trees to the lumber yards or huge chunks of stone for the masons. At this hour, there were dozens of them making their way to the city before the sun set.
‘These are encouraging signs, young Randur,’ Brynd called out, gesturing at the line of traffic. ‘These are the building blocks of the new age. The city will be rebuilt. Life will be restored to what it was. This gives me hope.’
‘Well, not to be annoying about it,’ Randur replied, ‘but anything’s better than the pile of shite that Villiren was a while ago, let’s be honest.’
‘Your mood is still sour, I see.’ Brynd pulled his horse to slow down to a more casual pace, so that he could sip some water and contemplate the gentle flow of people. ‘Any chance it will improve, since we’ve a way to go yet? I would have thought this country air would’ve done a rural fellow like you some good.’
‘Bugger has it done me any good. It’s cold out here, and I’m hungry, if you must know.’
Brynd chuckled and said nothing.
‘What’re you laughing at?’ Randur asked. ‘Do I amuse you somehow? Look, chap, not all of us have had our senses slapped into some new state where we can’t feel anything any more.’
‘A little. You remind me of an old comrade,’ Brynd said. ‘He was a good friend, actually, and he was just as pessimistic as you.’
‘I wasn’t always this bad, you know. Doesn’t seem that long ago that I was chipper and looking around for little but a decent plate of meat or a lady’s sigh. So, what happened to him, your comrade?’
‘He died.’
‘Oh,’ Randur replied. ‘Sorry to hear that. Was he killed in Villiren?’
‘No, he died just before as it happens — we were on our way here, to Villiren,’ Brynd replied. ‘It was our first encounter with the Okun, just an outrider group — a couple of hundred of the Empire’s finest. Got himself fatally injured but that didn’t stop him in his dying moments dragging a pile of relics to collapse the ice long enough for us to get out. He saved the Night Guard and a good few soldiers, and allowed us all to get back to the city so that the defence could be maintained. If it wasn’t for him, I suspect, Villiren would have fallen. He was a good one, ultimately. Bitter and jaded, just like you, and would have gone to great lengths to avoid doing any work. Just like you.’