Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [145]
“Well, we must take that island no matter what,” the chancellor said. “I will not have the Jamur Empire suffer defeat. I will not allow it. Whatever it takes, it must be ours, d’you hear?”
He wafted the poker around the garuda’s head as he spoke, but he wondered why he bothered to lecture a dumb, valueless soldier. He wondered then of what message the Council would have to issue to the people. He could see what to put on the news pamphlets: a Varltung massacre of our brave fighters in the ice, a vicious terrorist atrocity, savage barbarism on our democratic collection of nations … Such sentiments, he realized, would even provide an excuse for an all-out campaign to control more resources during the Freeze.
“Get some rest, flight lieutenant,” Urtica ordered, resuming an illusion of calm. “Soon I’ll be expecting you and your fellows to fly out from the city with instructions for reorganizing every soldier we can spare. Soon, everyone available will be marching eastward for a concerted attack on those Varltung bastard tribes. There’ll be no prisoners taken—I want every adult male on that island killed, every boy decapitated. Towns to be burned to the ground. So go rest now. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day for you.”
Yes, chancellor. The bird-soldier pushed himself fully upright, then staggered out of the room.
As soon as he had gone Urtica hurled the poker across the chamber. Two servants came in to investigate, but Urtica dismissed them with insults.
This military loss was almost as embarrassing as losing Imperial territory. What would people think of him—and of the Empire he now piloted?
Just at that moment, in the midst of his paranoia, Councilor Delboitta entered the room. In her skinny old hands was a document that might at least relieve his stress temporarily. He studied her gaunt features, those prominent cheekbones, highlighted by the firelight. A few strands of gray hair tinged her otherwise black hair.
“Chancellor Urtica.” She spoke in a crisp, precise way, a woman who made you listen carefully to every syllable. She had heaved the door shut behind her, leaving the two of them in total privacy. “Magus Urtica—may I call you so here?”
“Yes, but only quietly,” Urtica said. “Even the walls have ears—this is a government building after all …”
She was a handsome woman of nearly fifty years whose husband, also an Ovinist, had died three years ago.
“What d’you have for me, then?” He guided her to the table. “Some oysters?”
“Thank you, but I’ve just eaten.” She unrolled the parchment well away from the food, then held it in place with a couple of wine glasses. They both leaned in close, little telltale suggestions in their breathing. So he hoped.
She indicated first the ancient runework inscribed on the document, and the correct stamps to indicate the authenticity of it. It was an order, ultimately, that would confirm the ascension of Urtica to Emperor. It made Rika out to be a mass murderer. This would then be delivered to the starving refugees in the form of largesse. They would hopefully die in large numbers, and cease to be a damn burden. All traces of Imperial failures: gone.
“Perfect,” Urtica breathed, allowing his gaze to drift down the ancient letter-craft, the runes and seals so true to the Villjamur standard legal documents that it seemed impossible to know it was forged.
“When will you get their names on this?” Councilor Delboitta looked up at him wide-eyed, as if she worshipped him and would do anything for him—or at least he liked to believe that.
Urtica wanted as few people knowing he would forge the signature himself, but she was Ovinist. She was on his side. “I’ll add their signatures on this before the sun sets tomorrow. I’ve been spending some time studying their handwriting, so it shouldn’t take too long. Then I’ll present it to the Council.” Urtica’s pride swelled at his own ingenuity.
“And you’re sure the Council will accept such a claim?” Delboitta’s eyes positively glistened as she gazed intently into his face.
He knew of the secret numbers of Ovinists in influential