The battle lasted six hours, five of them in the circle. If the Imperial commander had hung on for another half-hour, the plainsmen would have run out of arrows and pulled out, but of course he had no way of knowing that. He surrendered and his men were marched away, leaving twelve hundred of their number behind.
(A day or so later, a party of itinerant pedlars wandered on to the battlefield, stared in wonder at what they’d found, and spent the next two days stripping armour off the dead, beating out the holes and dents and cramming it all on to their wagons. In the end they sold the whole consignment to a scrap dealer in Ap’ Idras for more money than they’d ever imagined existed; in turn, the dealer sold it on to the Imperial armoury at Ap’ Oule at a hundred and fifty per cent mark-up, proving that even the most dismal tragedy is somebody’s opportunity of a lifetime.)
‘We won,’ Temrai repeated, when Kurrai had finished. ‘That’s amazing.’
‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ Kurrai replied. ‘And whatever you do, don’t start thinking our problems are over, because they aren’t. I don’t want to worry you unduly, but are you aware that every single nation that’s managed to inflict a significant defeat on the Empire over the last hundred and fifty years is now effectively extinct? They get awfully upset when they lose. There used to be a saying among the Ipacrians: the only thing worse than getting beaten by the Empire is beating them.’
Temrai nodded slowly. ‘Thank you very much,’ he said. ‘One more victory and we’re done for, is that it?’
Kurrai looked uncomfortable, and shrugged. ‘I just feel it’s important not to let one success go to our heads, that’s all. And we have to remember, fighting the Empire isn’t like fighting anybody else.’
‘I think I get the message,’ Temrai said.
By now, of course, he was far too wide awake to go back to sleep. Under normal circumstances he’d shake off the fit of depression by getting up, bustling about, finding something to do; but of course, he didn’t have that option. Tilden wasn’t there; she was on the other side of the straits with the rest of the non-combatants, camping out among the ruins of the City. The more restless he became, the more his knee hurt. Finally, he gave up even pretending to rest and yelled for the sentry.
‘Go and wake somebody up,’ he said. ‘I’m bored.’
The sentry grinned, and came back a little while later with a couple of very sleepy-looking council members, apparently chosen at random – Joducai, in charge of the transport pool, and Terscai, deputy chief engineer. Then he saluted and returned to his post.
‘Temrai, it’s the middle of the night,’ Joducai said.
Temrai frowned at him. ‘I can’t help that,’ he said. ‘Now then, those two Islanders, the old wizard and the boy-’
‘Islanders?’ Joducai looked confused, reasonably enough. ‘Sorry, you’ve lost me.’
‘We picked up a couple of Islanders wandering about down south,’ Temrai explained. ‘They said they’d been shipwrecked and just wanted to go home, but they could be spies, so I had them brought here.’
Terscai grinned. ‘Since when have you been bothered about spies?’ he said.
‘Since a spy saved my life, I guess,’ Temrai replied. ‘I’m thinking of recruiting my bodyguard exclusively from spies. Do me a favour, go and round them up and bring them here.’
‘Why us?’ Joducai asked.
‘You’re up and about,’ Temrai said. ‘Everybody else is asleep.’
Joducai sighed. ‘You’re feeling better, I can tell,’ he said. ‘It was wonderful when you were dying, a man could get a good night’s rest around here.’
A little later they came back with the two Islanders, Gannadius and Theudas Morosin.
‘Morosin,’ Temrai repeated. ‘That’s a Perimadeian name, isn’t it?’
The boy said nothing. ‘That’s right,’ the older man replied. ‘We’re both Perimadeians by birth. I’m his uncle.’
Temrai thought for a moment. ‘Gannadius isn’t a City name, is it?’
‘It’s the name I took when I joined the Perimadeian Order,’ he replied. ‘It’s traditional to take another name, usually borrowed from one of the great philosophers of the past. My given name was Theudas Morosin.’
Temrai raised an eyebrow. ‘The same as him?’ he asked.
‘That’s right. Morosin’s the family name, and Theudas is a name that runs in the family, if you follow me.’
‘Not really,’ Temrai admitted, cupping his chin in his palm. ‘It strikes me as showing a lack of imagination.’
‘Like having everybody’s name ending in ai,’ Gannadius replied. ‘It’s just the way we did things, that’s all.’
Temrai nodded slowly. ‘And you used to be Perimadeians,’ he said, ‘and now you’re Islanders. I see. I imagine you feel pretty uncomfortable here.’
Gannadius smiled. ‘He does,’ he said. ‘I’m a philosopher, so I don’t worry about that sort of thing.’
Temrai muffled a yawn – a genuine one, though it was well timed for effect. ‘Really,’ he said. ‘And what was a philosopher doing wandering about in our territory?’
‘We were shipwrecked,’ Gannadius said.
‘I see. On your way where?’
‘Shastel.’ Gannadius suddenly realised that he couldn’t remember what relations were like between the plainspeople and the Order; he couldn’t think of any reason offhand why there should be bad relations, or indeed any at all, but rationalising isn’t the same thing as knowing. Temrai, however, didn’t seem concerned.
‘And may I ask why you were going to Shastel?’ he said.
‘I live there,’ Gannadius said.
‘Oh. I thought you said you were an Islander.’
‘I am. I’m a citizen of the Island.’
‘A citizen of the Island, born in the City, living in Shastel, with two names. You must find life confusing sometimes.’
‘Oh, I do,’ Gannadius replied. ‘As I think I may have mentioned, I’m a philosopher.’
Temrai smiled, as if conceding the match. ‘What about him?’ he said. ‘I’m asking you, because he doesn’t seem very keen to talk to me.’
‘He’s shy.’
‘I see. Does he live in Shastel too?’
Gannadius shook his head. ‘On the Island. He works for a bank.’
‘Really? How interesting. And before that, did he go straight to the Island from the City after the Fall?’
Gannadius’ expression didn’t change. ‘Not exactly,’ he said. ‘He spent a few years abroad before that. You know all this, don’t you?’
Temrai nodded. ‘He was Bardas Loredan’s apprentice,’ he said. ‘Colonel Loredan rescued him from the sack of Perimadeia; from me, in fact, personally.’ He turned his head and gave Theudas a long, hard stare. ‘You’ve grown,’ he said.
For the first time, Gannadius’ air of affable rudeness waned a little, but not by much. ‘So what are you going to do to us?’ he asked.
‘Send you home, of course,’ Temrai answered, with a brilliant smile. ‘Though in your case, Mr Philosopher, I’m going to have to ask you to specify which one. You seem to have so many.’
‘The Island will do fine,’ Gannadius replied quickly. ‘Or Shastel. Whichever’s the most convenient, really.’
‘Anywhere but here, in fact?’
‘Yes,’ Gannadius admitted.
‘I quite understand.’ Temrai winced, as his knee twinged. ‘Please excuse me,’ he said. ‘I managed to damage my knee the other day.’