The Merchant's War
By Charles Stross
Merchant Princes Book Four
T he wreckage still smoldered in the wan dawn light, sending a column of grayish-white smoke spiraling into the misty sky above Niejwein. Two mounted men surveyed it from a vantage point beside the palace gatehouse. "What a mess."
"Unavoidable, I think. The best laid plans... have they found his majesty yet, your grace?"
The first speaker shrugged. His horse shuffled, blowing out noisily: the smell of smoke, or possibly the bodies, was making it nervous. "If he was inside the great hall we might never find identifiable remains. That could be a problem: I believe the blast must have far exceeded the plotters' intent. The soldiers found the Idiot, though-what was left of him. Near chopped in half by the rebels' guns."
It was not a cold morning, and the second speaker wore a heavy riding coat: nevertheless, he shivered. "If these are the spells the witch families play with, then I think we may conclude that his presumptive majesty struck not a moment too soon. The tinkers have become too accustomed to having the Crown at their convenience. This could well be our best opportunity to break their grip before they bring damnation to us all."
The first speaker stroked his beard. 'That is the direction of my thoughts." He looked pensive. "I think it behooves us to offer our condolences and our support in his hour of need to his majesty; a little bird tells me that he is of like mind. Then we should look to our own security. His lordship of Greifhall has a most efficient levy which I think will prove sufficient to our immediate needs, and for the honor of his grandfather he has to come to our aid. We can count on Lyssa, too, and Sudtmann. For your part...?"
"Count me among your party, your grace. I think I can contribute-" He paused, thinking. "-two hundred? Yes, Iwo hundred of horse certainly, and perhaps more once I've seen to the borders."
"That will be helpful, Otto. The more you can send, the belter-as long as you do not neglect the essentials. We cannot afford to feed the scavengers, of whichever kind." The first speaker shook his head again, looking at the smoking rubble. Stooped figures picked their way through it, inspecting the battlefield for identifiable bodies, their movements as jerky as carrion birds. "But first, an appropriate demonstration of our loyalty is called for."
The Duke of Innsford nudged his horse forward; his companion, Otto, Baron Neuhalle, followed, and behind him-at a discreet distance-the duke's personal company followed suit. The scale of destruction only became apparent as Innsford rode down the slope towards what had been the Summer Palace of Niejwein. "It really does appear to have been visited by a dragon," he commented, keeping Neuhalle in view. "I can see why that story is spreading..."
"Oh yes. And it came to dinner with his late majesty and half the witch families' heads of household at his table for the feast," Neuhalle agreed. "They'll draw the right conclusion. But what a mess." He gestured at the wreckage. "Rebuilding the palace will take years, once the immediate task of ensuring that his majesty's reign is long and untroubled by tinkers and demon-traffickers is completed. And I do not believe that will be easy. The old fox will move fast-"
Neuhalle broke off, composing his face in an expression of attentive politeness as he reined in his horse. "Otto Neuhalle, to pay his respects to his majesty," he called.
"Advance and be recognized." Neuhalle nudged his horse forward towards the guards officer supervising the salvage attempt. "Ah, my lord. If you would care to dismount, I will escort you to the royal party at once."
"Certainly." Neuhalle bowed his head and climbed heavily down, handing the reins to his secretary. "I have the honor of accompanying his grace, the Duke of Innsford. By your leave...?"
The guards officer-a hetman, from his livery- looked past him, his eyes widening. "Your grace! Please accept my most humble apologies for the poor state of our hospitality." He bowed as elaborately as any courtier, his expression guarded as a merchant in the company of thieves: clearly he understood the political implications of a visit from the duke. "I shall request an audience at once."
"That will be satisfactory" Innsford agreed, condescending to grace the earth with his boot heels. "I trust the work proceeds apace?"
"Indeed." A lance of royal life guards came to attention behind the hetman, at the barked order of their sergeant: " 'Tis a grim business, though. If you would care to follow me?"
"Yes," said Innsford.
Neuhalle followed his patron and the hetman, ignoring the soldiers who walked to either side of him as if they were ghosts. "His majesty-the former prince, I mean-I trust he is well?"
"Yes, indeed." The hetman seemed disinclined to give much away.
