City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [209]
*
Later still, seated around a table with Rika’s entourage and the female god-thing, Brynd finally composed his thoughts. As commander of the military, he still had a job to do, and forces to command. Whether or not he followed Imperial law, he could see himself writing a history of his own. The weight of decisions burdened him – his mind had already been taken to breaking point because of the war, but now . . . now was a time for rebuilding.
According to orders, he ought to have had Rika arrested, but in present circumstances, that didn’t seem to matter so much. Besides, Artemisia had broken the arm of the last guard who had tried to restrain her – so tough measures didn’t seem all that prudent while he was still weighing up his options. Besides, he did not trust Urtica.
‘Here’s what I propose,’ Rika announced, placing both hands on the table.
‘What you propose?’ Brynd echoed. ‘You’re currently a prisoner of the Empire.’
‘You already know me, commander, so you can rely on my word.’ Rika explained the events of their capture, and their journey to Villiren.
‘Just tell me what you propose,’ Brynd interrupted, ‘and I’ll tell you if I can trust in it.’
‘I want to detach Villiren from the Empire, for the military here to switch allegiance to me. We need to take Villjamur – but then comes the difficult part. We must form an alliance with the alien nations in Artemisia’s world, allowing their gradual repopulation within the Boreal Archipelago, living alongside human and rumel. It is only when we accommodate Artemisia’s culture that we will have the resources to resist any further attacks. Can you seriously tell me we’d all survive on our own?’
Brynd replayed the horrors of the war through his mind.
‘The main gateway through which the Cirrips – what you call the Okun – arrived has been disabled temporarily,’ Artemisia added. ‘They may repair them soon enough. We have an unspecified amount of time to act.’
‘Essentially,’ Brynd said, ‘you’re suggesting our cooperation is your only hope?’
‘We are each other’s hope,’ Rika argued.
‘As I have been saying,’ Artemisia intervened. ‘Let us seek peaceful solutions from now on. Peaceful integration is the only answer.’
This was a head-fuck, all right. Did Brynd even have a choice? ‘It could take a while to get things straight,’ he said eventually. ‘The city’s a wreck. The army is depleted. We’ll need to rebuild. Yet you just plan to take Villjamur? Do you have any idea how well protected that city is?’
‘Once the alliance has been declared,’ Artemisia suggested, ‘I may well be of assistance in that matter.’
*
When nothing more could be said, they left Brynd alone with his thoughts. Left in solitude, he went over to the window overlooking the city. There were purple-blue skies to the north, something he’d not seen in a long while, and a warm breeze gusted over Villiren – it seemed like an omen of what he’d just learned. Pyre smoke trailed up from distant quarters of the city, and seabirds had returned to scavenge. You won’t find much there.
Brynd strode out of the obsidian room and went back to his private chamber. The place was still a mess after Nelum’s attempt to assassinate him, though at least the bloodstains had been removed. Exhausted, he collapsed on the bed, breathed deeply and pressed his head into his hands.
There was probably no choice, he realized. What Rika suggested made some sense, though pulling apart the Empire which he had served all his life felt instinctively wrong. But these were different times, and the islands faced change whether they liked it or not. If he was to make a beneficial impact on the Boreal Archipelago, it would be by helping in its reconstruction – though he had no idea of the outcome after alien cultures had been introduced. And after the battle raging across Villiren, he felt he could take on anything now.
Shaping cultures, Brynd thought, finally closing his eyes. This must be what it’s like to be a god.
FIFTY-FIVE
Voices were the first thing to return to the abandoned streets. Conversation,