The Radiant War

Chapter 23b

     Private Grey and the Brigadier, standing near the back of the crowd, watched silently as the Princess, her hands manacled behind her back, was taken from one carriage to the other. “What do we do?” asked Grey, his hands clenched in anger.

     “For now, nothing,” replied the Brigadier. “She's in no immediate danger. Did you see how the guard handled her? With consideration and respect. And listen to the crowds. Listen to what they say to each other, low enough that the guards can't hear. They love the Princess. They see her as their best hope for a better future. No, her danger comes from the Radiants and the adoptees, not from the people of Carrow. Even King Nilon is no threat to her. He knows her value as a hostage so long as Leothan remains free.”

     “We have to get into the palace. Make contact with her.”

     “Yes, and I know how to do that. There's a man in the city I have to make contact with. He'll help us.”

     “A Helberion agent?”

     The Brigadier looked around to make sure no-one in the crowd was paying attention to their conversation. He moved a couple of paces away, to an empty space against the wall, just to be safe. “The head of the Charnox network. I’ve had dealings with him before. He'll be able to put me in touch with Wombat, our agent in the palace itself.”

     “We have an agent in the palace?” Grey stared in astonishment. “Why hasn’t he just killed Nilon?”

     “Because assassination is not a door we want to open. If we do it to them, they'll do it to us.”

     “They tried to do it to the Princess!”

     “Yes, and if we had credible proof, more than just Darniss’s confession, they’d have been condemned by the whole human world as a result. Besides, we’re better than that. We meet the enemy honestly, on the battlefield.”

     “Would you really rather lose honestly than win by assassination? Losing is losing, no matter how it happens.”

     “Obviously we want to win, but we want to do it in a way that will inspire future generations. We want to set an example.”

     “There have to be people to learn from that example! If we lose, it's not just us who lose. It's all humanity! Future generations will admire our code of ethics from inside cages.”

     “I am confident that we will win. There are things in motion that, for security reasons, you can't know about.”

     He moved back to the crowd and pushed his way through it to see the Princess’ carriage pass through the gates into the palace grounds. “We have to move,” he said as Grey joined him, and he led the way back into the narrow, claustrophobic streets of the city.

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     What an ugly palace! thought Princess Ardria as the carriage drove along the King's Road towards it. It was blocky and functional, made from great slabs of granite that made it look like something a child had made from toy bricks. What it lacked in style, though, it made up for in sheer size. Paisley Palace could have fit into the space occupied by one wing! It looked stronger as well. It looked as though it would have shrugged off the earthquake that had half destroyed Paisley Palace with a sneer of contempt, and that artillery shells would just bounce off it. Just an illusion, she knew. No rock could withstand artillery bombardment, but it was a powerful illusion nonetheless and it made her shiver with nervous fear as she was carried helplessly towards it.

     Other palaces were surrounded by gardens and decorative hedges. Greyspike Palace was surrounded only by grass and, immediately in front of the massive ironstrapped oaken doors, a large parade ground of the same crushed granite as the road. Ardria imagined hundreds of soldiers in splendid dress uniform arranged in ranks and files, parading across it to the sound of a brass band for the inspection and amusement of the King and his family. And also for the intimidation of the common people, she realised when she saw that the grass closest to the parade ground was of a poorer quality, as if the soil beneath had been compacted by crowds of thousands of people, brought in to watch.