Hyran, it transpired, had company when Lizanne slipped into his mindscape, finding it merged with another. At the mid-point of the spice-shop the cabinets and cases sublimed into a stretch of rocky shore-line, dotted with many pools. She could see him wandering a shingle beach close by, a smaller and more slender figure at his side. Lizanne moved to one of the rock-pools, seeing a swirl of colours in the water, vague shapes forming and breaking apart in what one of her tutors had called “the dance of memory.”
Miss Blood?
Lizanne turned to see Hyran standing close by. At his side was a young woman Lizanne had last seen killing Corvantine Imperial troops at the Sanctum. It was the young woman who had addressed her, this being her mindscape.
Jelna, Lizanne greeted her. Good to see you, and please pardon the interruption.
I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t turn up ten minutes ago, Jelna replied, provoking a blossom of embarrassment from Hyran. I’m guessing you’re here for him, not me, she added.
I am.
Jelna nodded, Lizanne seeing the colour bleach from the surrounding mindscape as she prepared to leave the trance. They still talk about you, she said. Some of us have been arguing for a statue in your honour.
Then please stop.
Jelna let out a pulse of warm amusement before her mindscape vanished completely, leaving her alone with Hyran in the spice-shop. When I met her in Corvus, she was of a . . . fiercer disposition, Lizanne recalled.
She’s still fierce enough, he responded. When the need arises. Do your respective organisations approve? One of the Co-respondent Brotherhood dallying with a member of Republic First.
It has become clear to many of us that holding fast to old allegiances is not in the best interests of our new republic.
Although evidently glad to see his former comrade and informal mentor again, Hyran’s thoughts were tinged with a wary suspicion. Lizanne suppressed a small pulse of pride at this, glad to see her lessons during the long march to Corvus hadn’t been wasted. A good Blood-blessed agent should always suspect everyone, even their friends.
I did wonder if I would ever see you again, Hyran went on.
And now you wonder what on earth I could want?
Quite.
She summoned one of her whirlwinds, opening it out to display a recent memory. It was the view of a ruined port city captured from far above during a reconnaissance flight in the Firefly the day before. Blackened buildings stretched away from the docks, smoke still lingering in some places. A few Red drakes glided over the town and a pack of Blues could be seen breaking the surface of the sea beyond the harbour wall. Lizanne magnified the image to bring the many bodies littering the streets into focus, sensing Hyran’s distress at the sight of so many slaughtered children.
They take the adults and kill the young, Lizanne explained.
Where is this? he asked.
Sairvek, what’s left of it. I take it neither the general nor the Electress know about this?
Rumours have been flying lately, but the southern coast is a long way from Corvus and all the Blood-blessed there are Cadre loyalists. Besides, we’ve had plenty to keep us busy in the north.
So not every Corvantine is enamoured with the revolution?
It was glorious at first. General Arberus led one army west and the Electress another north. Jelna went with her, I went with the general. Village after village, town after town all welcomed us, young people flocked to our ranks . . . Then it began to change. Not every region of the Empire suffered under the Regnarchy’s yoke, and some of the most prosperous lands lie in the west. Often the people there had no urge to offer their loyalty to those they saw as traitors and usurpers of the ancient and divine order. There were battles. We lost troops winning them and many in our ranks felt the need to take vengeance on those we had vanquished. The general did his best to stem the worst of it but . . . Things got uglier the farther west we marched. By the time we reached the coast they were calling it “Arberus’s Red March to the Sea.”
I’d wager he didn’t like that.
No. He didn’t.
Where are you now?
Torivek, the largest port on the western coast. Unlike the others it fell without a shot. People are a lot poorer here.
The Electress?
Besieging Merivus in Northern Kestria along with Varkash.
Varkash, the former Varestian pirate and leader of the Verdigris gang in Scorazin, who once said he couldn’t give a sea-dog’s cock for the revolution. I thought he would have sailed for home by now, she commented.
He agreed lucrative terms with the Electress, one-third of the value of any noble property seized. Plus she made him an admiral, which pandered to his vanity. She advanced up the coast roads and he kept her supplied en route with what’s left of the Imperial fleet. It worked well until she got to Merivus. She’s been at it for a good few weeks now. Jelna says her captains keep advising her to by-pass it but she stubbornly refuses to move on. There are rumours she has scores to settle with some of the townsfolk.
Lizanne recalled Electress Atalina’s tale of how she came to end up in Scorazin and felt a brief pang of pity for any Imperial officials she managed to capture alive when Merivus fell. Lizanne also concluded the Electress would be too preoccupied in pursuing her vengeance to have much regard for crises elsewhere, but it couldn’t hurt to try.
Share the memory of Sairvek with Jelna, she told Hyran. Tell her to bring it to the Electress’s attention. You do the same with the general.
I will, he promised. But that doesn’t mean they’ll send any aid. Without the presence of the revolutionary armies this entire country may fall into anarchy.
If the White triumphs in Varestia your revolution will be worth nothing. Feeling her Blue begin to thin, Lizanne prepared to exit the trance, pausing as another notion occurred to her. Make sure Jelna also shares what she knows with Varkash, it’s his homeland after all.
“I’m pregnant, not crippled,” Sofiya Griffan told Captain Trumane, ignoring his further protestations and ascending the gangway to the deck of the Viable Opportunity.
Flustered, Trumane turned to Lizanne. “Couldn’t you . . . ?”
“She’s an experienced Maritime Protectorate Blood-blessed,” Lizanne replied. “And I have a trance connection with her. Besides, I suspect within a few weeks she’ll be as safe aboard your ship as anywhere else.”
She switched her gaze to the Viable, taking in the sight of the newly manufactured Growlers on the upper works and the four Thumpers mounted on the rails. Situated on the fore-deck in front of the pivot-gun was a large canvas-covered object standing over fifteen feet high. At this angle it somewhat resembled an abstract sculpture awaiting an unveiling. She could see her father’s long-coated form moving about as he made adjustments to the revolving circular frame on which the object was mounted. He had wanted to go on this mission but, unlike Sofiya, Lizanne firmly asserted he was needed at the Mount Works, as the inhabitants were now calling it. Instead, a trio of the more mechanically adept workers had been recruited to operate the professor’s latest device.