So of you might accuse of that sa hubris, given my terity in lecturing this august body. I know I have earned your contempt for refusing to participate directly in the War. There is no lofty rhetoric I would offer by way of an excuse, because the answer is simple enough to understand - though my soul is often thought of foremost as a generals soul, a conquerors soul, those are the wrong terms for it.
Used in war, it is a tyrants soul. To kill, to destroy with a soul such as mine, requires that one hold in their heart the surety of another mans death. For most of its bearers, this was easy enough - they did not care. The vaunted example of Leo Artabasdos has always rung hollow with , because I know what historians could not - that to slay the enemies of Ghar as he did, he had to view them as less than animals.
I continue to affirm my decision to abstain from combat. I believed that the best course was for to devote my mind, body and soul to the creation of an Institute for the advancent of Ardalt, so that we might rise as a nation against the relentless tide of history.
It is with my utmost regret that I inform you of my failure.
- Stanzas Complaint to the Assembly (excerpt), 671.
He didnt know what ti it was when the airships alert horns began to sound, but there was still daylight in the windows as Michael burst from his room into a suddenly-crowded corridor. Lucs door was ajar, his bunk empty; Michael pushed through the crowd until he caught a glimpse of Charles, looking as if he too had just awoken from sleep.
You know whats going on? Michael asked, raising his voice over the sound of the horns.
The artifex shook his head. Just heard the siren, I dont - hey, Vernon! Michael turned to look, spotting Vernon looking out a window so distance away. The two n made their way towards the auditor, who was standing serenely despite the deafening racket.
How in Ghars bones are you okay? Charles asked. Doesnt this hurt?
I never fixed my ears, Vernon replied dreamily, his eyes sowhat glassy. It doesnt hurt. Its just - a lot to hear. So much noise. He smiled, then giggled.
Michael and Charles exchanged a look. Im not sure if this is better, Charles muttered. Hey, focus here for a mont. He snapped his fingers, twice, and Vernon pivoted towards the noise with a bemused expression.
Do you know whats going on? Michael asked. Are we under attack?
No, no, Vernon chuckled. Were over attack. Tanks attacking. The Safid lines, theyre about to draw close. Heard soone talking about it that, that- He swiveled and pointed towards the ships fore. That way.
Michael nodded and turned to Charles. Put him in his bunk, he said. Im going to the observation deck. He began to run down the corridor as fast as the press of people would allow; from behind him he heard Vernon yell sothing unintelligibly supportive.
He did not slow until he reached Leires booth, but she was not there; Michael wondered for a mont before he realized that shed be down lower, on her exposed platform - ready to use her power on the Safid, should it prove necessary. His nose pressed against the glass as he looked outward, the ground below covered in a sporadic dusting of white.
Not snow, he realized, but the leaflet drops from before. Just ahead he could see the leading edge of the armored column spreading out from the road theyd used, approaching the long and sinuous shapes of the Safid trenches.
There was no movent amid the trenches. Michael sharpened his sight and saw only wet paper and rusted wire; to the south the Ardan lines were similarly-still, but he could see the shapes of n huddled amid their fortifications. They made no move to take advantage of Safs absence. They only watched the ndiko advance, quiet and motionless.
Michael turned; there were other crew on the deck, though none of them he recognized. He approached the nearest, a man with a short goatee and an officers cap.
Where are the Safid? he asked.
The officer blinked at him, then looked out at the trenches below. Theyve left, he said. Thats why we dropped a warning. Were here for territory, not troops. If they want to leave before we arrive, so much the better.
They wont have just left, Michael muttered. Saleh wouldnt leave. Hed - wheres Antolin?
The officer blinked again, a bit slower this ti. The Grand Marshal? I havent the faintest idea, I assu hes on the command deck.
Michael turned from the window and took a step toward the center of the room. Sera! he called out; the officer jumped back with a muttered curse. Sera!
You dont actually need to shout, she said, her avatar materializing next to him. I can hear you.
Can you see down below? he asked. Are there veils down there, sothing to hide Safid forces?
She paused a mont, then shook her head. No, she said. Nothing that I can see.
Sir, the officer said, sounding mildly offended. We did not advance blindly. The Grand Marshal has ample reconnaissance at his disposal. Every trench and culvert has been inspected, every field probed. There is no force hiding out there that could trouble us.
I cant disagree, Sobriquet said. The only people down there are the ndiko and the Ardans, and the Ardans are staying put on their side of the line.
Michael frowned and stalked over to the other side of the observation deck; Sobriquet trailed along behind him. He looked at the Ardan lines for a mont, then turned to her.
Theyve been watching the Safid lines constantly, he said. They must have seen them leave.
What do you want to do, ask them? Sobriquet retorted. After Sever, Id rather not find out what a regular Cutters blade feels like. I can snoop around, though. Her avatar fuzzed, then beca still.
My sight isnt the best for this, she said. Seems like theyve seen so fighting recently. There was another long pause. A few field hospitals, full of n. Bodies. Lots of bodies. Stacked up in the forest, maybe to keep them out of the camp - I cant see how theyre going to bury that many before they rot, even with artifices.
Michael frowned. Did the Safid attack to a man instead of evacuating? he wondered. That seems like an odd choice, especially if they didnt have the numbers to overwhelm the Ardans.
They certainly gave it a good try, Sobriquet said. Its hard to see detail like clothing unless I focus, but every man there looks bloodied. Shirts torn. There was a long beat of silence; Michael looked out through the window at the Ardan lines while ndiko tanks continued to pour out from the road.
Suddenly, Sobriquets avatar was right beside him. Michael, she said urgently. Theyre not wounded.
He looked at her, wincing as the avatars face lood large in his vision. What? he asked.
She leaned closer, her voice gaining a panicked edge audible even through the avatars distortion. I couldnt see it at first. Their shirts are torn and bloody, but theyre not wounded. The bodies in the forest are naked. Those arent Ardans.
Michael looked back out at the trenches, wide-eyed. Ghars bloody - tell Antolin! he spat, running past the startled officer towards the corridor. And Leire!
Halfway down the corridor, the world turned to darkness. The lack of light made him stumble, heart pounding as he reached for Stanza. Clair and Vincent flared bright in his chest, and the world sprang into sharp-edged lines around him.
He kept running. The report of explosions reverberated through the ship, the low drone of the engines ramping up to shudder through every beam. Michael threaded his way past stumbling crewn and through bulkhead hatches until he reached the ships command deck; he burst into the bridge and sought out Antolin.
The Grand Marshal was standing calmly at the rooms central table, dictating orders to his command staff in asured tones. They dispersed those orders to others, and those to tactical officers or radion in an orderly progression.
What gave Michael pause, however, was not the utter lack of urgency with which Antolin was speaking. It was that the luminous world Stanza showed him faded to chaos around Antolin. Lines wavered and broke, spinning out into shards and fractals that settled into new order before breaking once more.
He had seen this before. Jeorgs soul, his soul worked in much the sa way, drawing out permutations of what was into what could be. Antolin lacked the grand scale and power that Stanza boasted, but he clearly had so skill with its use; Michael was reminded of a concert his father had dragged him to years ago, of watching a pianists fingers dance across the keys.
In an instant, the darkness vanished. Michael blinked involuntarily at the sudden light; there was a chorus of muffled curses from around him - followed by a halfhearted cheer from so of the lower officers. Antolin turned a tolerant smile toward the cheering officers, then let his gaze settle on Michael.
Welco to the bridge, he said. Your friend was just telling how we were about to be ambushed by a treacherous lot of Safid hiding in the Ardan trenches. Fortunately, I am a hard man to surprise.
Chuckles ca from his command staff; Michael felt suddenly foolish. Youre a bonifex, he said.
Antolin shrugged. In the Ardan classification, he said. Ask Leire about the differences soti. In the present, we have a skirmish to mop up. He gestured towards the windows along the port side of the airship; Michael moved to look.
In the bare land between the two trenches was an abattoir. Safid soldiers lay dead or dying in the mud between the lines, blood running in streams between the corpses. Fires burned here and there where a spark had caught clothing; Michael thought he could sll the faint odor of burning flesh even from inside the bridge.
The ndiko column was largely untouched, save for so dents and gouges in the tanks armor. The only substantial damage was at the head of the column, where two tanks were afla while several more wheeled backward, shooting sporadically from their machine guns.
A single tank lagged behind the rest, its tracks damaged and a broad scorchmark along its side. Flas danced over its top; a mob of Safid soldiers hid behind its bulk even as they hamred relentlessly at its front armor. There were one or two scalptors there, and at least one potens - he could see the tal denting under the mans fists.
Can you do sothing about that? Antolin said, close behind him; Michael jumped, startled.
About those soldiers? Michael asked.
That tank wont make it back, and the others wont be able to flank around. You have about twenty seconds before they pierce the armor. Id like to save that tank crew. Antolin looked at him expectantly. The tank is shielding them from direct fire, but that doesnt apply to you. Fifteen seconds.
Michael spun back to stare at the foundering tank. True to Antolins words, an elent was moving to flank the attacking Safid - but too slow, if his estimates were correct. Michael didnt doubt him. He grit his teeth, calling on the fires in his chest.
Stanza surged within him, but there was no direction for it to flow. The soldiers sward around the tank in a mass. They were indistinct to Michael, and every effort to separate them into people that he could act upon left his mind considering them as individuals which he rebelled against harming. And they were distant, so distant, despite the fact that Jeorg had acted at a longer range against Spark-
Hard to get your mind to think outside of the room its in. Jeorgs words from that day echoed back, and Michael frantically pivoted to one of the bridges exterior doors.
The tank burst into fla as he gripped its handle. Michael breathed hard as he watched the other tanks complete their flanking maneuver and tear the last of the Safid to ribbons.
Hm, Antolin said, looking out at the burning tank. I see.
Michaels cheeks burned. Im sorry, he said. Explanations swirled through his mind, but they all seed like excuses. He looked at Antolin to find the other mans eyes already upon him.
We learn things, Antolin said, and we act upon what weve learned. Today my soldiers learned that their training was not in vain. Saleh Taskin learned the asure of his enemy, which I imagine was precisely his aim with this wasteful stunt. He gave Michael an evaluating look. When we return from the ground, consider what youve learned today.
From the ground? Michael asked. Why are we landing?
Because I learned sothing today too, Antolin said. Etorri, with . This will be important. He made a few sharp gestures to his command staff; they nodded and rushed away to other parts of the bridge. Michael heard the airships great fra groaning as it began to sink down lower.
He steeled himself and followed Antolin from the bridge.
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