Fragile Empire Read online

  ‘One day…’ Cain muttered.

  Lennox said nothing.

  The bunk next to theirs was shared by Libby and Darine and he watched as the young Domm woman spoke in Libby’s ear. On the other side of the room the rest of the squad began to dress next to their beds. By the left-hand bunks were the Kell twins, Kallek and Carrie, and on the right stood Logie and Loryn, who was the youngest of the squad at seventeen. At twenty-four, Logie was five years older than Lennox and Darine, who were the next most senior in the squad.

  His thoughts went back to the book. He would smuggle it out when the squad went on patrol the following day, and then dump it down a ventilation shaft, never to be seen again. He knew Libby wouldn’t tell anyone, but worried that one of the others would find it, and if that happened then Pyre alone knew the consequences.

  The squad trooped off together once they had dressed, and made their way downstairs to the First Company’s refectory. The bell rang as they descended the steps, and Logie gestured to them to hurry up. They entered a long chamber, filled with rows of tables, where the company’s twelve squads ate their meals. They hastened to their table as the battle-priest mounted the podium at the end of the room. He raised his hand and silence fell over the hundred soldiers in the chamber.

  ‘Soldiers of Pyre,’ he said, his voice reaching the furthest away tables, ‘please stand for the evening prayer.’

  The soldiers got to their feet, heads bowed.

  The battle-priest cleared his throat. ‘Let us pray.’

  The soldiers joined in, each knowing the refrain by heart.

  ‘O Holy Pyre, O Great Creator,

  The One, the All,

  Alone in your silence,

  Hear our Prayers!

  Know we remain ever faithful

  And pledge our lives to your service,

  Now and forever.’

  ‘Glory be to the Creator,’ the battle-priest said, and stepped down from the podium. He walked to the high table where the other officers were waiting and took his seat. At this, the rest of the company also sat, and a low murmur of conversations filled the air as dinner was served. Young cadets rushed around with trays, setting them down onto each table in turn, while the soldiers poured themselves cups of wine.

  Lennox gazed at the candles on the wall as they waited for the cadets to reach their table. He reached out in his mind for a slender flame, and felt it move and coil, like it was alive. A strong urge to control it swept over him but he was used to that feeling, and looked away.

  He noticed Libby gazing at him and caught her eye. He gave a gentle shrug and she bit her lip and frowned. She took her faith seriously, much more than Lennox did, and he knew that the presence of the book troubled her on a level deeper than it did him. He could hardly see the point of burning books, but he trusted their leaders, and did what he was told.

  Dinner arrived.

  ‘Pork again,’ said Cain. ‘I’m going to turn into a pig at this rate.’

  ‘Too late for that, blondie,’ said Logie.

  Only Kallek laughed, as he always did at Logie’s attempts at humour.

  ‘You did well today, squad,’ he went on. ‘I’m proud of you all. The way we smashed through that mob of civvies, it made my fucking heart swell. Just wait for when the big one comes. The fucking empire won’t know what hit ‘em.’

  Darine snorted. ‘We’ve been hearing about the big one for so long, I’m starting to wonder if it’ll ever happen.’

  ‘Patience, lass,’ Logie said. ‘The Lord Protector’s just waiting for the perfect moment to unleash the Army of Pyre upon those unbelieving bastards up north. This is all just good training, and anyway, don’t see what you’ve got to complain about. We’re better fed and housed than any fucking civvie. We’re the best soldiers they’ve got, and they know it.’

  ‘I’m not complaining,’ Darine said. ‘I’m just bored.’

  Logie smirked. ‘I could fix that for you.’

  ‘No thanks,’ Darine said. ‘I’ve already had you. Once was enough.’

  Cain let out a strangled laugh as the squad-leader’s face turned scarlet. The rest of the table hushed. Logie stood up and struck Cain across the face with the back of his hand.

  ‘Think that’s fucking funny do you?’ he cried. He sat down and shook his head. ‘You disappoint me, Cain, maybe you should find yourself another squad. It was you today that was moaning about how you didn’t think our squad was good enough to get through that mob on its own. Anyone who doesn’t believe in this squad can fuck off.’

  ‘I do believe in the squad,’ Cain said, his face pale. ‘I don’t want to leave.’

  Logie nodded. ‘One more chance then, blondie. Don’t try my fucking patience again, and never question the squad.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Good lad.’

  Lennox glanced at Libby, and their eyes met. He had known her all his life, and could sense that she was feeling the same way he was. Their squad-leader was an arsehole, but what could they do?

  They broke off the glance at the same moment, looked down, and began to eat in silence.

  Chapter 3

  Clay Mage

  Amatskouri, Imperial Plateau – 6th Day, First Third Spring 524

  ‘Wake up, Ravi, you’re going to be late.’

  A hand shook his shoulder. He groaned.

  ‘Come on,’ the voice continued. ‘Get up.’

  He buried his head under the covers.

  ‘Fine,’ the voice said. ‘You’ll be late for work. Again. When you get home this evening, don’t say I didn’t try to get you out of bed.’

  Ravi peered out from beneath the blanket. His girlfriend Kerri was sitting on the bed frowning at him. He noticed the way her night-shirt revealed much of her thigh, and he reached out his hand to touch her.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind being late,’ he said as his fingers caressed her leg, ‘if you fancy a bit of action.’

  Kerri rolled off the bed and walked away, shaking her head. ‘Is that all you ever think about?’

  Ravi sat up, frowning. ‘No, I think about loads of stuff.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she replied. ‘Drinking gin and smoking weed.’

  She disappeared into the kitchen. Ravi stretched, scratched his head and sighed. Another day. He got to his feet and dressed. No time for a shower. In any case, he would be covered in sweat within thirty minutes of arriving at work, so what would be the point? He heard the kettle hiss, and stumbled through to the kitchen, his mind still groggy from the previous night.

  ‘You making coffee?’ he said.

  Kerri was leaning against the dining table, her arms folded. She looked stunning, even though she had only just woken up herself. ‘Might be.’

  ‘Make me some.’

  ‘Did your mother never teach you manners?’

  He tutted. ‘Please.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  Ravi nodded. ‘Good. Thought you were angry or something.’

  He sat at the table as she glared at him. There was a half-smoked stick of dreamweed in the ashtray and he lit it. Kerri’s eyes narrowed as he took a long draw.

  The kettle whistled, and Kerri turned to face the stove.

  ‘I would really appreciate it,’ she said, ‘if you would go out onto the balcony to do that.’

  ‘My apartment,’ he said, shrugging. ‘My rules.’

  ‘You can make your own coffee, then.’

  ‘Fine,’ he said, standing.

  He walked to the other end of the kitchen and threw open the doors leading to the apartment’s long balcony. He smiled at the fresh air and sunshine and took a deep breath. Before him sparkled the waters of the Inner Sea, rolling off endlessly into the horizon. His apartment was on the top floor of a long row of fine tenements, and across the tree-lined street lay a wide and sandy beach, which, even at this early hour, was filled with families out strolling, or paddling in the shallows.

  Below him, the r
oad was busy with morning traffic. Horse and gaien-drawn wagons pulled supplies and passengers along the seafront promenade, which was one of the main routes leading to the city centre from the east. To his left in the distance he could see the edge of the vast clay-pits that supplied the city with bricks. It was also where he had worked for the previous three years.

  Kerri joined him by the balcony rail and handed him a cup of coffee. He offered her the dreamweed, but she shook her head.

  ‘I never get tired of this view,’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s alright.’

  ‘Alright?’ she laughed. ‘It’s better than alright. You have no idea how lucky you are getting to live here. It’s one of the best streets in the city.’

  He puffed the last of the dreamweed and flicked the butt over the railing. ‘Doesn’t seem that great when you have to slog your guts out ten hours a day for it.’

  She put her arms round his waist. ‘I know you work hard. I know you don’t like it, but you’re a clay-mage. You deserve all this – the apartment, the wages, the spawning licence any time you want it.’

  ‘Stop,’ he said. ‘We’ve talked about this a hundred times. I don’t want any children just yet. There’s plenty of time for that after...’

  ‘After what?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, sipping his coffee. ‘I just know that there’s got to be more than this.’

  She withdrew her hands and placed them on her hips. ‘Am I not enough for you?’

  He hesitated.

  ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Don’t answer that. I know fine what you get up to.’

  He attempted a smile. ‘I’ve always said that we should have an open relationship. I’ve never lied to you about that.’

  She turned away and gazed out over the glistening water. ‘So you wouldn’t care if I was seeing someone else?’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Then the question is hypothetical.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Questions about the future tend to be.’

  He paused.

  ‘Well?’ she said. ‘Would you mind? And don’t lie, I can tell.’

  He thought for a moment.

  ‘I need to get to work,’ he said, turning away. ‘We can talk about this later.’

  He walked back into the kitchen, putting his empty coffee cup down on the table. His coat was hanging on a peg attached to the back of the door, and he slipped it over his shoulders. He hurried out of the apartment, half-running down the steps until he reached the ground floor. One of his neighbours was examining her mail by the front door, and he squeezed past, nodding to her as he went.

  Outside, the sun was shining and he smiled again, the dreamweed fogging his thoughts, while the coffee kept him moving. He turned left, and strode along the seafront in the direction of the clay-pits. The grand tenements lining the street gleamed as the dawn sun rose higher in the sky.

  Another beautiful day in Amatskouri, he thought. What a difference from the dump he had left behind in Arakhanah City when he had fled with his sister nearly seven years before. Amatskouri was like paradise compared to the grey, rotting tenements back in the old country, where the state militia watched your every move. While his homeland had fallen into tyranny, his new home, the young, thriving city of Amatskouri, was a democracy where every decision was voted upon by representatives of the citizens.

  His stomach rumbled as he spotted a hot-food stall by the beach. He crossed the road, skipping between the traffic, and joined the short queue.

  ‘Morning, Ravi,’ said the man behind the counter when he got to the front. ‘Late again?’

  ‘You know how it is,’ Ravi said. ‘Give me a double grasshopper wrap. Spicy.’

  The man nodded and reached for a pair of tongs.

  ‘Extra onions as well,’ Ravi said. ‘And a portion of fried squid.’

  The man smirked. Ravi handed over a small pile of coins as he waited for his breakfast.

  ‘You decided who you’re voting for tomorrow?’ the man said.

  ‘Nah,’ Ravi said. ‘All politicians are the same. Don’t know if I can be assed voting for any of them.’

  ‘What?’ the man said. ‘After all the trouble we had establishing Amatskouri, and you can’t even be bothered to vote?’ He slapped Ravi’s food down onto the counter with a scowl.

  ‘I’m one of the city’s clay mages, remember?’ Ravi said, picked up his breakfast. ‘Doesn’t matter who wins the election tomorrow, my life will stay the same.’

  ‘You should be setting an example…’ the man began, but Ravi turned and walked away. He frowned. Getting lectured by a hot-food seller, the cheek of it. He unwrapped one of his packages and took a bite. It was warm, greasy and spicy, everything he desired from a decent breakfast. He crossed the road and picked up his pace, eating as he walked.

  He went down a street to his left, away from the seafront, and approached the clay-pits. There was a long, low building squatting by the edge of the pits, and he walked through the front door.

  ‘Morning, Ravi,’ said the clerk on duty. ‘Just an hour late today, I see. The overseer will be surprised.’

  ‘Yeah, slept in.’

  The clerk chuckled.

  Ravi passed through into a side room, where rows of brown overalls were hanging from hooks on the wall. He took his coat off and pulled a clean pair on over his clothes, then sat on a bench and exchanged his shoes for a set of heavy boots. A long mirror was fixed to a wall, and he frowned at his reflection. He hated wearing the overalls. They were shapeless and unflattering, and made him look like an oaf.

  He opened the exterior door and descended the wide steps leading down into the pits. Over two hundred workers were employed within the complex, cutting the clay, carting bricks, and maintaining the paths in and out of the open pits. Many nodded to him as he passed, walking across wooden planks covering the muddy ground.

  ‘So you’ve deigned to join us?’ said the overseer as Ravi reached his appointed clay-pit. A dozen workers had already assembled an hour’s worth of cut clay, ready for him to begin.

  ‘Slept in.’

  ‘Sure. Late night, was it?’

  ‘Couldn’t sleep,’ Ravi said. ‘Neighbours were up all night making a racket.’

  ‘Well,’ smiled the overseer, ‘it’s getting docked from your pay this time, as warnings don’t seem to work with you.’

  ‘What?’ cried Ravi. ‘You can’t do that. I’m a mage.’

  The workers around them said nothing, but Ravi could see they were all listening.

  ‘I can as a matter of fact,’ said the overseer. ‘Check your contract. It’s right there.’

  ‘This is horseshit.’

  ‘Tough.’

  ‘But I need the money.’

  ‘Then stop being late.’

  ‘This is worse than slavery,’ Ravi said, but the overseer was already walking off. He turned at the edge of the pit.

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘You may have a visitor today. We’re giving a tour after lunch to an imperial agent. She’s here to buy harbour bricks, so be on your best behaviour.’

  ‘She?’ Ravi said, his eyes lighting up.

  ‘Calm yourself. She’s Rahain.’

  The overseer left the pit as Ravi grimaced. A Rahain. Yuck.

  He turned to the pile of cut clay and sighed. He extended his arms and laid his palms onto the soft, sticky material, as he had done every working day since he had first been hired by the city, and as he would be doing every day into the future. Closing his eyes, he summoned his power, and began.

  Three hours later, drenched in sweat and covered in mud from head to toe, a whistle blew and the workers halted for lunch. Ravi sat down on a stool, exhausted, his arms aching. Behind him sat a cart, half-filled with finished bricks. Eight times that morning he had filled it up, and he knew he would have to fill many more cart-loads over the course of the afternoon. He lit a cigarette, and drank from a canister of lukewarm water. Above his head the
noontime sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky. With spring underway, it was starting to get warmer again.

  ‘Here, mage,’ said a worker, handing him a hot pastry from a bag over her shoulder.

  ‘Thanks, babe,’ Ravi said, winking at her.

  He held the pastry by its thick crust and took a bite. Lobster and onions. Lovely. He alternated bites with drags on the cigarette as the rest of the workers in his pit sat and ate their lunch. He envied them. He was paid four or five times what they were, but at least they were free to resign their jobs and leave the pits if they wished. He was a virtual prisoner in Amatskouri because of his powers; the law requiring every mage, flow or clay, to be employed in the interests of the city. He could run away, but he needed the money. Badly.

  ‘And this is Mage Ravi,’ a voice said. ‘He’s fifth level.’

  Ravi looked up to see a group of managers gathered by the pit entrance.

  ‘Fifth?’ said the Rahain woman standing among them. ‘Of the eight mages employed here, that would make him your best-rated.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said one of the managers, a man Ravi rarely saw.

  The Rahain woman approached. Unlike the others, she didn’t seem bothered by the mud. Ravi glanced at her as she negotiated the wooden planks criss-crossing the ground. Her overalls were ill-fitting, but her hair was done up nicely and he supposed that, for a Rahain, she wasn’t bad-looking. A bit old, though.

  ‘Good afternoon, mage,’ she said, sticking her hand out.

  Ravi wiped his palm on his leg and shook her hand. He avoided looking her in the eye, as the vertical pupils of the Rahain made him feel queasy. One of the managers coughed. Ravi glanced over, to see the man motioning with his hand, urging him to his feet.